Ambivalence
by DreamScene
Summary: The push and pull of the attraction between them leaves her unsure of what she's supposed to do with him. Shirley/Lelouch
1. Recognition

A/N: I haven't come across a lot of Shirley/Lelouch and I seriously think these two belong together. I totally love this pairing. Clearly, this is a different version of the series, at about episode 13 from the second season. This is going to be quite dark and please heed the rating. It's for a reason.

* * *

The first thing she saw in the empty corridor of that empty shopping center after the blinding flash of white cleared from her vision was Lelouch.

Between the maternity clothes shop and video game store, the collage of fleeting moments from a past life besieged her under its crushing weight.

Silky black hair and regal violet eyes. The chiseled angles of that fine face. He had smiled in a way that made her inside turn to mush on their first day of classes at Ashford Academy.

Memories, all of them.

The rest came to her in a rush, leaving her breathless and overwhelmed.

A black mask strewn on the ground, away from its owner in the felled Knightmare. The feel of cold gunmetal in her hands, pointed at him in a failed attempt at revenge. Her lips on his mouth, under the falling rain.

All of it had to do with him.

One hand fisted in her hair as she attempted to steady herself and ended up having the wall support her weight. A weak fist automatically struck the stone wall. The coolness she felt against her forehead calmed her after several long minutes.

Her first instinct, after the wave of dizziness and the repressed _something_ hit her, was to find him. Sometime after pushing herself away, she started toward the nearest doorway only to hear incoming footsteps.

He saw her before she had time to react.

"Shirley," Lelouch said, alarm in his voice.

She smiled weakly at him and stopped touching the wall once and for all.

"I think I got lost," she lied before considering her words.

He didn't miss a beat, offering to take her back to school with the excuse that she looked pale. With her wrist in his hand, she didn't think but followed at his side.

Behind them, the hiss of a train sounded foreboding to her ears.

* * *

It takes her a whole 16 hours to digest what just happened and break down emotionally in the process. The buried memories flashed menacingly under her eyelids, viciously reminding her of who he was trying to hide. She'd been right to call him and Suzaku a couple of phonies that time.

Her jaw clenched painfully.

Sorrow choked at her once again, acid building in her mouth. She repeated mourning the loss of her father, one year later. Lost souls on the nightly news replayed once more in her mind, creating a barrage of tears.

The pillow crushed against her chest, she made a crumpled mess of geese feathers and cotton lining in her desperate embrace.

Shirley stumbled out of her room in a shroud of melancholy, disoriented as she wandered aimlessly through deserted halls. She barely caught sight of the darkened shadows under the gray clouds as lonely steps echoed from the walls and led her outdoors.

It should have been a relief that no one was around to see her, but was too drowned in thoughts to be grateful at not having an audience.

The cold rain soothed her heated skin, flushed from several hours of inconsolable crying.

The concrete bench where she sat chilled her, allowing her to breathe a little easier as it calmed the raging boil of her blood. Despite being completely soaked for what seemed like hours, she didn't need to shiver.

He found her inexplicably grieving on the school grounds on a late afternoon.

The thick cloud of numbness cleared slightly in the cool air.

Her face was slowly washed in the precipitation and she didn't need it to disguise her tears. The gentle decay of her insides slowed to a crawl, allowing her to reflect on old wounds and breathe a little easier.

"Shirley," his voice called out, melodic and soft, devoid of the usually smoothness.

She frowned, her chest clenching painfully for that miserable instant. Besotted by images of the past, the renewed sorrows buried her.

Warm fingers traced along her jaw, combing through wet hair to angle her face. He imagined that if she looked at him, her eyes would red-rimmed from whatever troubled her. He found her lips distracting, staring at her full mouth for a long minute.

"Shirley," Lelouch repeated.

_Look at me_ went unsaid, though she clearly heard his plea.

A perverse shiver of enjoyment went down her spine at the sound of his voice. Her hands found his wrists and slid gently along his arms. She gripped his elbows, blindly bringing him closer. A warm forehead rested on hers lightly.

He hadn't quite paid attention to the changes in her face throughout the course of a year in her sunken cheeks, the slight pallor of her complexion and the angles of her face. Even if she couldn't remember the reasons, he suspected she grieved in her select amnesia.

"I," she began. "I'll be fine."

She attempted to smile when her eyes finally brave enough to see him. Her eyes were clear, despite the obvious troubles. He felt the shudders traverse her body in the cold breeze, forcing him to take notice how her drenched clothes were plastered against her skin. Her blood stirred restlessly when she understood where his line of sight traveled.

_I'm going to hurt you_, she thought.

He looked up to see dark jade staring back insistently, pulling him forward. It didn't require explanation, despite his reliance on logic, though if he had really wanted, he could blame it on gravity or inertia or some other force of nature.

He tasted the falling rain along with her grief and thought it strange that it was so familiar despite how much time had passed.


	2. Intrigue

A/N: Look at me, updating after two days. Woo.

And yes, I know this is out of order from the series. Now read on.

Feedback: Yes, please.

* * *

She shot up in bed sometime at dawn, the sudden cold surprising her despite having woken up in the same manner for roughly two weeks.

The initial shock wore off into an indistinguishable blur as the chill wore off. Her hands threaded through her hair, palms pressing into her eyes to keep those fears at bay.

She dreamt of him every night since regaining the knowledge of his identity.

It left her restless, inadvertently kicking at air and shooting upward to a sitting position upon abruptly waking.

She sighed and touched her lips lightly.

* * *

For the first time ever in her academic career, she fell asleep in class, unable to fight the exhaustion of sleepless nights.

It took some light shoving before shaking off that unplanned nap.

"Hmm?" she asked intelligently.

Her legs stretched under the desk until she pointed her toes. Gradually, she moved her head from the tabletop, rolling her shoulders to get the kinks out.

She blinked slowly to find violet eyes staring at her. There was an amused smile playing around his lips that she was too drowsy to understand. Whatever the joke, she clearly wasn't getting it.

"Wakey, wakey," he chided her.

Something warm rested on her knuckles and when she looked at it, his hand covered hers.

"Oh no," she complained with a chuckle. "I think I'm turning into you."

She blamed the smile that stretched on her lips on slow reflexes.

* * *

Over the din of conversation, Milly filled in the student council on upcoming activities based on her ideas of fun. Contrary to popular belief, she wasn't a completely authoritative leader and proposed two ideas for them to pursue.

The student council planned to have a spring dance over another event involving bad cosplay. Shirley gazed out of the window in the council room as Suzaku and Nina rifled through old fashion magazines and paused to look at the glossy pages of a fashion spread featuring a former royal who had since fallen from grace but not the collective memory.

The stories she had once heard no longer carried the same magic as they did in her childhood imagination. It reinforced, rather than taught, the hard truth that no charming price would ever exist.

Lelouch was nowhere to be seen.

She didn't question his absence and looked at the weather report instead. No rain or cloudy days were forecasted for the next week. Despite some relief, her heart sank a little.

She thought it an irony to look back at those memories when her parents called her princess and shuddered.

The sound of a book slamming on the tile floor brought her back to the present.

They debated cost and theme of ornaments. To pair along with the white votive candles, she argued (and won) for the silk magnolias chosen for the table décor, citing the inspiration from an old jazz record whose singer wore the flowers in her hair. Eventually, they came to an understanding on something about old fashioned glamour and the Hollywood silent film era.

She felt a lot better when the final decisions were made, though she wished the whole affair would be cancelled.

* * *

Alone in her room, she listened to the same record without pause for three hours and memorized the words to heartache before laying her head on the pillow.

"In my solitude," she sang softly. "You haunt me."

* * *

Lelouch acted much the same upon returning from his latest battle somewhere in the west. Zero had fled the Britannian Empire with his followers in copycat outfits and taken on the Chinese Federation in negotiations as far as she learned from news reports.

He apologized to Milly for not attending the council meeting on the latest fundraiser.

Defeat had made a slight pinch appear between his eyebrows, even though the veneer of confidence remained intact. She noted how the recent loss had made the look in his eyes distant, smile reserved and tone thoughtful.

The avid chess player was clearly planning his next move.

The indecipherable code of his expressions had somehow become something of an open book as she learned to read the subtleties of his body language. She did not rejoice at the newfound knowledge, feeling like a guilty accomplice instead. Another weight was added to her conscience and she thought it a wonder that her knees weren't weak as she stood up.

She excused herself early to do homework in the library.

Before the door closed, he saw her falter and lean momentarily against a hand for support as she exited.

* * *

The topic of her history paper is based on royal families, which she had been researching for several weeks. Once alone, she stared at the unfinished version of a manuscript, complete with academic sources and marked in different colored inks. The more she read, the more certain she was of how tragedy had marked every known ruling dynasty with minor insults and private conflicts until those erupted into full blown war to involve more than just the main protagonists. Casualties were the inevitable outcomes.

The manuscript was stashed under a wooden board in a desk drawer, as previous experience had taught her.

She noted the similarities of several dynasties: conquest, growth and peace. The circle continued, she noted without surprise.

Still, she wondered where exactly he stood on the first two of that continuum.

A news wire first broke the news of how he'd decimated countless troops on the Asian continent, far out West within the Chinese Federation boundaries.

Kallen Kozuki had become the modern incarnation of Helen of Troy. She launched a thousand ships with a sway of her hips, according to one report Shirley couldn't help but reread dozens of times when sleep eluded her in the dark pitch of dawn.

Lelouch appeared to gleefully accept the role of Paris as he ordered more death and destruction in the wake of that retrieval mission.

Suzaku had been recalled into duty some time ago, though she really wasn't paying all that much attention to him.

If Lelouch was willing to go through all that trouble in regaining his top soldier, Shirley unwillingly found herself wondering what he was capable of doing for the person he would fall in love with (if he ever did and presuming that he cared for more than just himself and his cause).

Her imagination failed to come up with an inkling of an answer.

In the one week he'd been gone, she conditioned herself not to care, imagining him committing the most vile, atrocious acts. Countless numbers had been lost on either side and she stopped looking at sums of known casualties altogether.

The couple from hell could live happily fucking ever after as far as she was concerned. Which she wasn't. Not in the slightest.

The image on her laptop lit up a sliver Shirley's room with its gloomy light.

A woman on a mission, Kallen stopped being young. The steely blue stare in the photo was sharp and determined.

It cut Shirley down.

She was the first person he saw upon returning. Force of habit had made her easy to track, as Shirley hid behind the stacks of reference material in the library, her attention vacillating between a girly romance comic book and a pile of biographies from random historical eras.

Lelouch called her name upon seeing her.

In turn, she squeaked and impulsively hid the lollipop she'd been eating, successfully imitating a five-year-old caught in the act. Upon realizing it was him, she scowled.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," she hissed and smacked his arm for good measure.

He coughed, hiding a smirk behind his hand.

"Can we talk?" he asked when he managed to straighten his expression enough to not annoy her further.

She narrowed her eyes at him, although the usual bashfulness threatened to overtake her. For reasons she couldn't begin to fathom, it seemed he was being a bit shy as well.

_I don't care. I don't care. I don't care._

The candy was freed from its wrapper once again and she took a tentative lick before answering.

She caught him eyeing her lips, tinted bright red with cherry flavoring. His eyes darkened a fraction of a shade, suddenly distracted. The thin handle twirled between her fingers.

_Interesting._

"Sure."

He cleared his throat with a slight frown. She bit back a smile and cracked the hard candy between her teeth.

A new avenue was appearing before her as an idea formed in its infancy.

"I was wondering what homework assignments were due this week."

Her heart sank slightly despite her best efforts not to care. Operation: Squash Romantic Delusions was failing fast.

"There aren't any new assignments for any classes but we are supposed to be working on our history thesis," she informed him, recovering from her dismay. "What civilization topic are you researching?"

If she didn't know him any better, the answer would've been surprising.

"Proletariat uprisings and their effects on monarchic structures."

"Destruction, you mean."

He cocked his head slightly to the side, a light crease between his brows.

"Think about it," she continued. "It's the civilian population that winds up being most affected, seeing as it's one of the major things that keep the number of people down in one fell swoop."

"Revolution has a price."

Famous last words from the leader of the rebellion against Britannia.

"That's a scary thought, don't you think?" she countered. "The ones starting these conflicts can end up losing everything in the process and may not see what happens in the end."

He smiled and bit his lip, quietly surrendering. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her think she voiced something he couldn't say aloud.

The expression on his face was excessively endearing, painfully so.


	3. Resentful

A/N: I am on a roll with this story!

Feedback: Yes, please.

* * *

The pencil in Shirley's hand snapped into three pieces when she saw the news on a Monday morning.

The little brunette pictured as the top of the headlines was pretty and graceful in her elaborate hairstyle and dress. Shirley hated her immediately.

She refused to read the story, her eyes glued to the photograph of the girl standing beside him masked as Zero, a hand wrapped around his covered arm.

The accompanying caption stared her back in the face.

_Kyoto House representative Kaguya Sumeragi announced her engagement to the Black Knights' enigmatic leader Zero, who is heading a rebellion against the Britannian Empire's rule in Area 11._

Lelouch. Engaged.

She considered the two words together. They did not correlate, no matter how much she tried to make sense of them.

While he appeared bothered at times in her presence, she didn't really expect him to make a move. Not since that day when he'd found her in the garden had they had another moment like that.

It was wrong to expect more.

She pulled her hair discreetly in sheer exasperation and resigned herself from trying to mean anything more to him.

* * *

Shirley literally saw the light bulb go off in Milly's head as blue eyes brightened unnaturally. She cowered behind her notes, praying something else would take up her attention.

It was not meant to be.

"How about we find you a dress?" Milly suggested, her nails sinking into the edge of her seat.

Shirley, fluent in Milly-speak, considered her options.

Her thinking was clouded by the devil staring her in the eye with entirely too much cheer. Some corner of her mind told her it was not an otherwise uneventful Thursday but Let's Torture Shirley Day.

Nina, the only other person in the room, seemed to like the idea. Shirley lost the color in her face along with the page she was reading in her physics textbook when Milly and Nina dragged her in the closet where old costumes were stored.

"Even Nina, who's a genius, has an outfit," Milly said pointedly.

Shirley pouted.

"Aha!" Nina cried out after wrestling a blue dress out of the clutches of crowded hangers and plastic covered clothes.

In their enthusiasm, they piled her arms with a veritable rainbow of sequins and shiny fabric. She stopped counting the number of items when she lost circulation in her fingers under the weight of their fashion choices.

"There's no mirror in here," she said. "I can't try these on without seeing how they look."

"Don't be silly," Nina smiled. "There's one in the student council room, right outside this door."

"Now strip down and put this pink one on first," Milly ordered. "We'll wait outside."

Shirley sighed and waited until she was alone to pile her hair up and secure it with a pen. Her clothes were neatly stashed in a corner as she got into the first gown.

The double-headed monster previously known as Milly and Nina shook both of its heads simultaneously. The sight disturbed her.

"The color's not right," Nina said.

"Not enough cleavage," Milly stated.

Sixteen dresses later, they had settled on a short list of decent and 'maybes.' She slipped out of a silver cocktail dress, taking her time in placing it on the hanger before facing the last item.

From the way it was designed, the black dress looked fairly complicated to wear. Straps and ties hung limply as she attempted to decipher the scrap of cloth. She reached behind her back and undid her bra before sliding it off her shoulders.

"Guys," Shirley started, looking down at her chest as she walked out, fumbling with a strap. "I don't know about this one."

She looked up and froze amid the cries of "It's _perfect_!"

And watched in horror as Milly cupped her hands in front of her own chest.

"They're like 'boom' and 'boom'," she said, pivoting one shoulder at a time to demonstrate. Nina giggled.

She was fairly sure she looked like an idiot, standing stock still in front of mirror with an unexpected audience.

Rivalz and Suzaku stared at her through glazed eyes, mouths slightly gaping. Lelouch was sitting next to Milly, composed as ever.

She noted a tight fist over his knee in her peripheral vision. Plum colored eyes bored into her, drinking in the sight like a thirsty man, his gaze glued at how the lack of fabric clung to her figure. Unable to pinch herself, she thought she saw him fix her with a scrutinizing stare that began at her hairline and ended at the tips of her bare toes. She was all legs and cleavage and a pretty face under that messy bun of hair. And whatever that fabric was, it was tight on her—

"What do you think, Lelouch?" Milly asked sweetly, nudging him with an elbow.

Shirley spun on her heel and high tailed it as fast as possible to her uniform.

"It's nice," she heard him say before retreating into the closet.

His stare said otherwise as she could practically see what he was visualizing.

_Cheating, lying, conniving…_

Violent red erupted over her face in mere seconds, his dark gaze prominent in her mind. Indignant, she threaded her fingers and covered her head with her arms, swearing revenge on the madam president.

"She's not even wearing a bra and that's all you have to say?" Milly bellowed.

She wasn't close enough to hear his rebuttal but Milly's incredulous laughter reached her ears.


	4. Drop

A/N: I'm working on this as I go along. I'm glad to see the response this has been getting. I only hope you enjoy reading it. Again, this is somewhat out of order from the series, but the hell with it, that's why fiction exists.

Feedback: I like to know what you're thinking. Especially if this sucks. Or to inflate my pitiful ego. You choose. Either way, please review!

* * *

The first time Shirley found Suzaku waiting for her after swim practice was on a Monday for a student council meeting that required her attendance.

It lasted about 15 minutes after a quick deliberation on the venue. He had given her an apologetic look for having dragged her to the pointless meeting.

The second time, he had asked for help with homework.

Since then, he had made a habit of it for the rest of the week.

In the idle chatter not involving class subjects or student council, Shirley learned he liked French impressionist art, pears and watching cherry blossom petals fall in the spring. Literature and poetry confused him and he hated history, although he was quite knowledgeable in the subject.

Thankfully, he never spoke of Lelouch and she didn't ask (partly out of spite).

They gained headaches over trigonometry and laughed away their frustrations by imagining their teachers as students, earning the worst grades, among other scenarios.

"_Who do you think would be the first to go if we got stranded on a deserted island?"_

"_Watanabe-sensei for sure. Everyone hates math and that man is sadistic."_

"_I would've gone with Tsuji-sensei, since none of that symbolism crap makes sense."_

The more they studied together, she came to notice the features of his face. Signs of worry and regret etched themselves on his forehead, between his brows and around his mouth.

He was a boy aging far too fast under too many responsibilities.

Her mind occasionally wandered to Lelouch, wondering how he was coping before forcibly snapping out of that line of thought.

On a cold afternoon as he walked her to a regularly scheduled student council meeting, she was taken aback by an unexpected question.

"Is there anyone you're going with to the dance?" Suzaku asked as they entered the room.

"No," she answered, lightly frowning as her shoulders came up in a shrug.

When the afternoon light blinded him upon walking into a beam of sunshine, she saw hints of warm hazel in his eyes.

Lelouch spotted them, eyes on her as they entered. It was noticeable even to Rivalz, who clapped him on the back once and said something she didn't catch as they sat around the table. An eyebrow raised slightly which she recognized it as Lelouch's subtle way of frowning.

She attempted to ignore Lelouch even when he took a seat beside her. Her honest attempt was thwarted by too much fidgeting. Her pen swung impatiently between her fingers, foot tapping in a silent rhythm against the leg of the chair and a general irritation at the calm the boy beside her seemed to possess.

Her attention span was destroyed, she sadly realized when she couldn't recall a single detail of Milly's presentation.

Upon adjourning, she met his unexpected soft gaze as a hand made its way to her hair, gently removing something above her ear. He presented her with a small leaf.

She managed to say thanks before the pounding of her heart drowned out everything else.

A corner of his mouth lifted as she gathered her things and forced herself not to run.

* * *

As of late, her dreams consisted of figures in black clothes.

"Walk," a toneless voice instructed her, carefully shoving her forward with an sharp poke on her back as a reminder.

Often, she was led her down a barren hallway, with a few lamps on either side lighting her steps along blank whitewashed walls. No echo from the walls but the soft padding of footsteps on thin carpet made noise in her ears.

_Two, three, four._

She counted silently in her head as her guide made her walk further along. Nothing stood out to her and she blamed this attribute to the inconsistency of dreams that toyed around with her subconscious.

_Eleven, twelve, thirteen._

"Stop," the voice said, decidedly feminine and irked for some reason.

Fifteen steps had led her to a door with no number on the left side of that corridor. Without further prompting, she understood she was supposed to enter. Her hand reached out to the cold metal of the door handle and hesitated. She didn't receive another insistent poke despite lingering for a long moment.

"Here goes," she muttered before turning the handle and pushing the door inward.

It was usually at that point Shirley woke up in a haze between restlessness and exhaustion. More than once, she had somehow gotten tangled up in the sheets, bound up like a bad Halloween costume.

After a swearing mentally once or twice, she'd determine no damage had been done and get around to readying herself for classes.

It was when she got to her feet that her knees shook when she pulled on her clothes.

* * *

She'd neglected to look at the calendar for too long when she saw red plastered all over the walls on the way to her first class. Too many hearts lined the hallways in a way that made her stomach churn unpleasantly.

Arriving early, the seat by the window allowed Shirley to ignore the holiday as she skimmed through her notes for the scheduled quiz. Incoming classmates were dutifully ignored at the sounds of elaborate dinner dates and surprise gifts in favor of memorizing dates for established constitutional governments and trade agreements between sovereign nations.

She was so determined to ignore her classmates' chatter that she almost didn't see the hint of fingertips from the corner of her eyes. A shiny bit of paper balanced precariously on the edge of her desk as her fingers reached out to catch it.

She looked up in time to see the lean outline of a black uniform taking a seat beside her and wondered how long he had been practicing that move.

"Good morning," Lelouch greeted her.

A genuine, if somewhat perplexed smile made it to her lips.


	5. Ascertain

A/N: Hey, thanks for reading. I'm keeping this going.

Feedback: Please drop me a line. Tell me if this sucks or not.

* * *

In the sunlight, the shiny gold paper blinded her with its glare.

Shirley turned it over delicately, pondering the suave delivery from a week earlier. He'd smiled at her. She'd liked it.

And then he'd gone and asked her to help him study. She doubted his reasons for asking for help, but couldn't find it in her to decline.

She stared at the geometric pattern of fine lines and stars printed on the cellophane. Pretty. Almost jewel-like. Lelouch hadn't given one to anyone else. He barely bothered to acknowledge the holiday, much like her.

She untwisted the piece of candy from its wrapper. Sweet and rich, it filled her slowly with sugar. She tasted hazelnut and dark chocolate ganache, smooth and delicious as it melted. The truffle dissolved gradually on her tongue.

It left her thirsty as she made her way to the library to meet Lelouch.

* * *

The assignment for health class was to prepare a presentation on drug abuse and its dangers. From what she'd read about it, Refrain was addictive for its recollection of the good old days.

Lelouch offered to take care of the writing portion.

It left Shirley on research detail to find visual aids and treatment options.

The whole thing would take no more than a few hours to complete. If she seemed bored with the assignment, he picked up on it quite soon.

"Have a drink with me," he asked.

One eyebrow shot up in surprise. Slowly. Because she'd seen him do it so often that she didn't want to seem flustered, but cool and collected.

The outstretched hand soon had Shirley on her feet and didn't let go of her fingers immediately. The slight burn in the back of her throat roared angrily, begging for something to quench it after being largely ignored for so long.

"Where did you have in mind?"

* * *

The bar in the Ginza district was nothing special during happy hour.

Neon signs advertising drinks with cheery sounding names seemed rather pathetic in the lull of a Wednesday afternoon. The few other patrons surrounding them were depressed looking businessmen drinking their sorrows.

Shirley sipped her German ale slowly, looking around curiously as she sat at the end of the counter next to Lelouch. It cooled her slightly as it went down. She stared at the forlorn figure of a woman in a severe cut of professional clothes in a nearby booth. Nearby, other businessmen looked just as haggard, although something about the downtrodden expression on the woman tugged at Shirley.

She sighed.

"What was that for?" Lelouch asked, his cheek resting on one hand.

"I was just thinking how I don't ever want to be like that."

Shirley surreptitiously pointed to the woman in dull clothes. He frowned lightly at her, guessing something about bad fashion sense.

"Why's that?"

She twirled a lock of hair between index and thumb. Some split ends were appearing, annoying her.

"She looks like a regular," she stated simply.

"And that means what?"

The long strands of hair uncurled from her finger, straightening immediately. Even the harsh lighting of greens, reds and oranges didn't detract from his good looks when she looked up to meet his questioning gaze.

_Not fair_.

"She seems, I don't know, sad," she started. "More than that, really. Empty, maybe. It's hard to explain, but I just look at her and I know I don't want to feel like that."

He smiled cryptically, silently understanding. She took a swig of her beer. The silence had become a little too palpable between them. She shifted her weight slightly on the stool.

"So how'd you find out about this place?" she asked.

Another odd smirk.

"Stop that!" she scolded, pushing his shoulder away. "I asked you a question. Answer me. Now"

His head ducked between his arms, she caught him laughing.

"Wouldn't have pegged you as a mean drunk," he said. "You're always so mellow, I thought you'd be the happy sort."

"You are impossible," she huffed, turning her back to him. "And I am _not_ drunk. And I'll have you know that you're the one who brought me here in the first pla-"

"No carding."

The crash of a glass tumbler along with loud cursing and someone's order spilled loudly. A cell phone ringing from a corner of the room went unanswered for three rings. The bells above the door chimed to welcome another patron.

She was going deaf, apparently.

"What?"

He sipped his drink. Then he tilted toward her, an arm draping around her as he pulled her shoulder toward his chest. One hand cupped over his mouth.

"The bartender," he whispered in her ear. "He doesn't check for ID."

She felt the slow release of his hand, fingers brushing through her hair. A low rumble echoed in her ear when he chuckled. Had he been anyone else, she wondered if she would have stayed as still against him.

"That still doesn't answer my question," she muttered after a moment, tracing the circle of condensation her glass left on the countertop.

"Trial and error," he said.

Again with the vague answers.

It was more likely that he hypnotized the man with whatever ability he had. She tried imagining him going from bar to bar trying to score a drink. It seemed so cartoonish, borderline screwball comedy, to visualize him with Rivalz going around Ginza convincing hapless bartenders to serve them.

The loud sputtering laugh startled him.

"Sorry," she apologized insincerely and straightened after gently pushing herself away from him.

Before he could say anything, the blare of a jukebox interrupted him. Shirley's eyes lit up in the dim joint at the sound of horns.

Jazz.

Shame forgotten, she swayed slightly in the barstool, keeping up quietly with the lyrics even though the music drowned out her voice. He watched her with something like muted interest as he leaned his head on one arm.

"Dream a little dream of me," she sang a little off tune but didn't care.

"You are drunk," he teased when the music died down.

She stuck her tongue out at him. _Lies._

"And you're just mean." _And evil. _"Even when you're sober."

"No one listens to that stuff, it's ancient."

"Don't insult the classics," she scowled. "My dad would listen to this stuff all the time when I was little."

She smiled softly at the memory. She'd never mentioned it before to anyone. Old records spinning on a contraption with a needle. Hot summers spent in the garden with an open window while the radio played forgotten melodies. Her parents dancing on the kitchen floor for no reason other than the right mood set by a good song.

A sidelong glance and she watched as Lelouch set his glass down, eyes growing serious. Planning out what to do next, no doubt. He'd been in a quite a light mood up until then, she realized. He'd even laughed and she wasn't the slightest bit insulted that it was at her expense.

It was hard to reconcile the idea of the ordinary student with the reality of his covert activities, even though she'd been a witness.

The remains of the spongy foam swirled in lazy circles around her glass of beer, reminding her of a photo of the Milky Way. It suddenly dawned on her that she was having a drink with her father's killer.

"I'm sorry, Shirley."

Sincerity.

It felt like a warm breeze drifting over her skin.

His hand came into view on her wrist, warm and comforting. She wanted nothing more than to bury herself in his arms and not let go, even though he'd been the cause of that darkness in her life.

_Isn't this supposed to be wrong?_

She nodded once, more to herself than to answer him. The glass in her hand tipped around in a circle, inciting the tiny galaxy within to rotate once more for her absent-minded amusement. A rogue planet or two spun away from the fixed axis, colliding against the wall of clear crystal.

Her eyes were dry when she faced him. Effortlessly so. And she was glad because otherwise she wouldn't have caught that soft gaze he'd never fixed on anyone before her.

Her fingers brushed away a persistent lock of hair that covered his left eye.

_I forgive you._


	6. Dubious

A/N: This has kind of taken over my brain lately.

Feedback: Pretty please?

* * *

Sleep was difficult to come by in the first week of March. Her father appeared in to her in dreams, the warmth of a smile from a lifetime ago.

Shirley awoke with tears in her eyes at dawn.

Old images echoed back at her in the few minutes of incoherency between consciousness and slumber in the darkness.

"_Someday you'll meet the man you really love."_

_The smile she'd loved to see on that face looked down at her affectionately. So easy to see, even to a five-year-old._

"_More than I do you?"_

_Those eyes glinted in the sunlight, her head angling to look at him just so._

"_If you truly love that person and he cares for you just as much, it would make me the happiest father on earth."_

Shirley wondered if his words would still hold true. A heavy something settled uncomfortably in her chest, leaving her wondering if perhaps a stone had been implanted in her heart.

If Lelouch had once erased himself from her mind, she wondered if it was possible to forget the pain on her own.

When she slid out of her bed sheets, she was momentarily confused upon seeing a shiny circle encased in clear plastic on the floor.

-

Suzaku found Shirley staring dreamily out the window when he pushed the world section of the newspaper toward her.

Her thoughts, previously running along the lines of a CD mix she'd found slipped under her door that morning, were dashed upon reading the headline.

_Search for Zero accomplice underway_

A sketch of a girl accompanied the story in a three-by-three-inch square. Oval shaped face, large eyes. Even in the two-dimensional rendering on graying paper, she was quite beautiful. Mysterious. Wanted.

Her name was C.C.

Shirley resisted hitting something. Her mood spoiled, she found herself under Suzaku's scrutiny, however subtle the soldier's attempt at the moment seemed. His intentions screamed loudly to her, causing the blood to rush to her ears. She prayed it didn't show on her face.

_How much does he know?_

Paranoia aside, she wondered what exactly it was that Suzaku wanted from her.

"Weird," she commented mildly and went back to making notes on his literature essay.

"Yeah," he concurred as an eyebrow arched suspiciously.

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and crossed out an entire line of verbose exposition.

"Doesn't it make you wonder who'd want to get close to a guy like that?"

She didn't dare look up, stung by the implication. Clearly, she'd been spending too much time with Lelouch.

_That obvious? Really?_ For all the time she'd known him, he'd been so damned stubborn in keeping everyone at a distance that it was preposterous to think she was some sort of exception. A scoff barely avoided emerging in the room.

"Mm hmm," she agreed, staring at Suzaku's handwriting on lined paper.

"He's only good for starting up trouble and not much else, if you ask me."

_Nobody asked._

The heel of her shoe ground into the tile floor to avoid any obvious show of annoyance on her face.

_Stupid. Presumptuous. Jacka-_

"It's like searching for a needle in a haystack," he commented.

She took a moment to let his words sink in. Red lights flashed in her mind. He was discussing military matters in her presence? And since when did she start to defend Zero? Suzaku was right in that regard, Lelouch was a hell raiser.

"You're part of the search team?" she asked, genuinely surprised when she looked up at him.

It didn't seem to throw him off.

"Everyone was put on search duty."

"What's making it so challenging?" she spouted before thinking.

She bit the tip of her tongue and took care to school her features. S_top talking._

"Not much to go on," he replied. "There are occasional sightings, but no real leads to go on."

"I see," she nodded in understanding.

Dark emerald irises bore into her iridescent shade of green. Her chest tightened uncomfortably under his intense gaze and make goose bumps rise on her skin. Suzaku's mouth opened to say something.

Lelouch picked that moment to make an appearance.

"Hey," he greeted her. To Suzaku, he offered a single nod. "Are you ready for trig?"

She groaned.

"No way," she complained, her palm finding its way to her forehead.

The half smirk on his face softened the impact of her disgust.

"If you'll excuse us," Lelouch told Suzaku. "We have math problems to work out."

"Ugh," she whined, trying not to be too hurried in her movements to gather her things. She was dying to get away from Suzaku.

"You'll come if you want to pass and not repeat the class," Lelouch chided her.

She made a show of rolling her eyes and sighing dramatically.

"Fine."

Shirley tried not to enjoy this version of a rescue. Especially not when Lelouch's hand landed on her wrist to guide her away.

She didn't dare look back.

-

She was upset about something.

Despite her smiles and general jovial nature, Shirley was giving him the silent treatment. She was avoiding any contact with him, carefully skirting around him for two weeks since he'd safely gotten her away from Suzaku.

Lelouch had almost succeeded in forgetting what it was about her that he'd wronged for that short moment.

A misstep, a bad memory (probably a false one), a slip of the tongue, something he'd done. Lelouch stared at the hair pin on the back of her head, biding his time to figure it out.

_So much for careful planning_, he thought.

-

There was a long list of girls willing to chase after him for better and for worse, Shirley realized.

Kallen would protect him, dying if necessary. Shirley was taken aback by his actions in saving his top soldier as he left death and destruction in his wake.

Her hands had curled inward, fisting tightly for days. It was nothing she ought to have cared about, but the surge of anger was unmistakable.

Kaguya wanted him as her husband. Political reasons or not, it bothered her that a complete stranger was laying claim to him.

She'd swiped a few ugly figurines left over from the Valentine's Day fundraiser and stomped on them until they were bits of porcelain and dust.

Milly hinted at times of having some interest in him.

She accidentally let a wrong time for a class assignment slip and made the minimal amount of appearances at student council meetings.

Nina had sworn revenge on him.

She was convinced that something about violet eyes brought out the worst in people, especially the ones who adored them.

Viletta wanted him dead. And probably Shirley as well.

She thought about quitting the swim team, but considered the repercussions. There would be too many suspicions.

C.C. was the newest name she'd heard. The extent of that relationship was beyond her scope of understanding. There was something romantic about the two being chased halfway around the world by the Britannian armed forces that made them seem like a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.

It sickened her.

She was just one more after him and desperately searched for a way to escape such an absurd story where the boy of her dreams was the one that others dreamed of, too.

-

She found herself studying him at times, unsure of what made him so attractive. (Aside from his obvious good looks).

She sometimes lost herself in random daydreams where he would inevitable make an appearance in her imagination. It usually degenerated into lurid fantasies that she had pinch herself to forget.

Still, beyond appearances, a few obvious things stood out.

He was a terrorist. She had aided and abetted. Admittedly, she would do it again for his sake, even without his knowing about it. Still, she found it hard to meet her swim coach's eyes after realizing what she'd done to protect him.

In short—a pair of criminals.

The few things they had in common were not reasons to be proud.

And while the list of his sins were innumerable compared to hers, she wondered how he could bear the weight of his conscience at times.

Still, when she looked in his eyes, she noticed things that made her heart ache. A lost childhood, a diehard dedication to a select few causes and whatever else she couldn't fathom that made him look at sunny days with such disdain.

Shirley understood devotion, even if the reasons behind such loyalty were somewhat incomprehensible. Pain and lost time bonded them together, inextricably. He became the cause and effect of the endless insomnia. In the shadows of those too early mornings, the images of an open grave and his smile exchanged randomly and dissolved at the first hint of sunlight.

From the corner of her eye, she watched him nudge a stack of papers in her direction while Milly announced the status of their latest project.

His elegant fingers discreetly entwined with hers under the table during the student council meeting.

Despite herself, she squeezed back.


	7. Proximity

A/N: Can you tell I'm making this up as I go? This is seriously taking over my brain. Go Shirley/Lelouch!

Feedback: Por favor. Concrit welcome.

* * *

Lately, her unconscious was wreaking havoc on her nights.

The long shadow the morning sun cast in front of Shirley reminded her too much of the black figures she tended to see before waking up too soon.

Her hand obscured her vision as she rubbed the spot above her brows.

"Ow."

Him. Again. Her stomach plummeted.

"Sorry," she apologized after crashing into Suzaku's back. "I'm so clumsy. I didn't mean to."

"No problem," he said. "Are you OK?"

She nodded.

"Just a little sleepy," she yawned, covering her mouth. "Been studying a lot, you know?"

Arms raised, she stretched upward to shake herself into awareness. If she didn't know any better, she would've missed the lower pitch of his voice.

"I've been meaning to ask," he started. "Have you noticed anything strange lately? Any reason for why anyone would be missing class so much?"

Warm up exercises suddenly remembered, she twisted the top half of her body to one side, mostly as a reason not to face him directly. She wasn't sure she'd mastered lying straight faced yet.

"Not really," she replied, twisting to the opposite side. A soft breeze touched her outstretched fingers.

"Really?" he pressed. "Because I was just thinking-"

"Good morning."

Between conspiring and outright deception, timing was quickly becoming one of Lelouch's strengths, she observed.

"Hey," Suzaku greeted him.

Shirley rolled her head forward in a half circle. The bell rang before anymore words were exchanged. She thought she saw Lelouch aim a dark look at the back of Suzaku's head.

She started forward, somewhat more alert than before.

-

Chemistry was boring, she conceded, even though she made sure to double check her homework for fear of repeating the class.

Shirley stayed afterwards to put away the materials used in Wednesday's experiment on identifying metals by the color of the flames produced. Coincidentally (although she doubted the validity of that), it was Lelouch's turn for classroom duty as well. She was pretty sure she'd seen Rivalz name next to hers on the class list the last time she checked.

She was too preoccupied to question it any further.

The scene at the bar replayed in her mind.

The candy. Partnering up for class. The whatever-it-was at the bar. Helping her with math.

He'd been making it up to her discreetly in small increments of kindness. It was exactly what she wanted. Once, a long time ago. Now she had no idea what she wanted.

And Suzaku kept her on edge, hinting there was more she knew about Lelouch.

A graduated cylinder made the mistake of sliding out of her soapy hands and shattered on the tile floor. She cried out when a glass shard cut her shin and limped a few steps away to hop on the nearest table top.

Before she was able to raise her leg and assess the damage, he had already kneeled before her to look at the wound. A thin trickle of blood darkened the hem of her black sock as he opened the first aid box beside him.

His hands were gentle when he crouched before her and placed her foot on his thigh. She whimpered when she felt something move under his probing fingers. Instinctually, her leg kicked, pushing him back.

"It hurts," she hissed.

"Stay still," he ordered, meeting her eyes for the first time in too long. Despite the dulcet rumble, his authoritative voice didn't allow for arguments.

"Sorry," she apologized, looking away and biting down on her anger.

Her jaw clenched when she saw the tweezers in his hand. She didn't dare breathe when she felt the invading cold metal on her skin. She bit down on her lip, hard.

_Don't pity me._

Her fingers maintained a death grip on the edge of the table as he extracted the piece of glass. Her knuckles were paler than she'd ever seen when she finally let go. He lifted her ankle to rest on the back of a chair, as the thin red trail redirected its course along her calf.

"You won't need stitches," he announced as he pressed a piece of gauze on her skin to mop up the blood.

He said soothing words she couldn't remember as he cleaned up the cut with peroxide to soften her grimace. They both watched the foam arise above the tiny red pool before he wiped it off.

"Thank you," she said as he placed a large bandage over the cut.

_Stop making it up to me._

He meant to ask her why she had been so obviously avoiding him, careful to in keeping her distance. By whatever miracle that would have made it remotely possible, she didn't know, right? She couldn't know where his not-so-casual vacations from class led. And what was going on with Suzaku?

But then, his eyes swept up from that cut, up to her knee and then a little beyond that. She was wearing red panties under that tiny skirt.

She wasn't oblivious how he stared at her leg, looking further up from where the small wound had been inflicted. He was scorching her under his scrutiny, the same as when she'd put that dress on and accidentally modeled it in the student council room.

He stood up slowly to see that she hadn't bothered to pull down her skirt, a thigh more than half uncovered. From the angle he was looking up at her, she was sure he could probably see more than she ever meant to show him.

After several long minutes of silence, he moved forward, standing and coming closer.

"You're bleeding here, too," he said, voice low.

"It really hurt," she found herself saying.

"Oh."

And again, that dark look in his eye mesmerized her when his thumb swept over her lower lip. Slowly. Gently. Something in her snapped abruptly when she grabbed his wrist. His eyes widened a fraction when she took his thumb in her mouth, soft tongue sweeping over his fingertip.

"It's my blood," she said simply, perplexing him when she let go.

The handsome frown on his face was too much for her at some point. That, and the angle in which he leaned, so close. Too close for her not to notice how much she wanted she wanted to bite down on his lip instead.

There was no plan she had in mind when she grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him forward.

The taste of tea and scent of fresh linen tinged her senses. His hair felt silky in her fists.

And like the first time she'd kissed him (the time she was supposed to never recall), his arms came around her automatically, pressing closer to her.

Her fingers twitched in response to his proximity, an urge to dig her nails into his skin.


	8. Offer

A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry for taking so long to update. Here are two chapter updates while I work on the rest.

Feedback: Si, please. Let me know what you think.

* * *

Her nightmares were not only wreaking havoc on her nights, but her days as well.

She'd made a mistake. A huge one.

Shirley blamed impulses, hormones, the stupid annoying spot on the ceiling no one ever repaired after the last typhoon.

So far, no accidental slips or unintended confessions from either one.

There was no stuttering, no blushing, no contact of any kind on her part. Lelouch, continued to be as composed as ever, although she sometimes caught a slightly wistful look in his eyes when he passed by the lab door.

It had been three weeks since her mini-meltdown in the chemistry classroom and neither one had broached the subject. She had kept her hands to herself since then although he had subtle ways of reminding her. His foot lightly nudging her ankle; a thumb running over her knuckles; his shoulder brushing against hers.

She ignored it as best she could.

-

The new diving maneuvers had been trickier than usual, her rhythm thrown off from stress. Even her swim cap refused to comply, coming off in the middle of a jump. Viletta's stern lecture didn't help assuage her nerves.

If anything, her time on the racing portions had improved, though she guessed cowardice had something to do with it. The adrenaline pumped through her steadily, keeping her going in the rush of excitement.

Suzaku found her toweling her hair after swim practice.

Another student council meeting. It was urgent, the messenger boy told her, something about Milly coming up with a big plan.

Shirley followed reluctantly.

"You still like him, don't you?" he asked carelessly.

The towel stayed firmly on her head, scrubbing at her scalp furiously. The warmth of tea persisted in tormenting her, all soft lips and embracing arms. The insistent vibrating tone of Lelouch's phone had broken up the moment, leaving her dazed and more than a little out of it in the chemistry lab.

She wasn't sure how she'd been able to walk out there. He'd finished up for the two of them that afternoon as she limped her way back to her dorm.

"What makes you say that?" she replied, pulling at the ends of terry cotton to hide the heat rising in her face.

She didn't catch the knowing smile, eyes straight ahead as they reached the door outside.

"Just a hunch, I guess," Suzaku said.

Three steps later, he repeated the question.

"You do, don't you?"

Above the dark cloth of her socks, the small scar was the insistent reminder.

"I'm not sure," she responded honestly. And the truth was that sometimes she wanted Lelouch more than anything, while at other moments she couldn't stand his presence knowing who he was and what he'd done. What he was still doing.

And then there were the things she wanted to do to him…

The laughter in her left ear surprised her.

"And he likes you so," Suzaku blurted out.

Shirley's feet stopped moving altogether. The towel retreated from the top of her head, wrinkling around her shoulders.

"What?" Confusion in its full blown form appeared on her face. "You're kidding me, right?"

"You can't tell?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed, directing her incredulous stare to a nearby tree.

"I'm not," he insisted. This was taking an odd turn from the happier, bouncy reaction he'd been expecting. Something, anything other than a calm shock would've been welcome.

"You'd like to know more about him, don't you?" he offered, a hint of seduction in his tone.

And there it was, an eyebrow shooting up on that handsome face, challenging her. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, to persuade or cajole her into joining the cause. This was the carrot he was dangling in front of her, hoping she'd take it.

She'd read about Mata Hari. He wanted her to turn against their classmate, play the part of the double agent by exploiting the perceived closeness with Lelouch. The idea was too silly for her to contemplate seriously.

It was her turn to laugh.

Again, he was taken aback by her reaction.

"Are you accusing our vice president of nefarious doings?" she asked, smiling widely.

She took a few steps forward, gathering her hair over her shoulder to soak up the excess water with the towel.

"Fun fact," she teased, much lighter on her feet than she felt in days and continued on her way forward. "He's really picky about the sweets he likes."

He joined her after she'd taken a seven step lead.

"He likes white chocolate."

_Faulty intelligence._

She shook her head.

"Wrong," she corrected him. "It doesn't really count as chocolate since it doesn't contain cocoa solids."

He'd lectured her about it once, when she asked him for help to buy ingredients for a tart.

_Bittersweet and semisweet are his favorites._

An accumulated list of Lelouch's favorites rattled off silently in her mind.

_German beer, acoustic guitar, board games, Sun Tzu, minimalist architecture, Tchaikovsky instrumentals, Robert Frost poetry, Chilean wine, dried apricots, gazpacho, rainy days…_

-

"As you know, the student clubs have been complaining about how limited the budget is for the school year," Milly began, pointing to a graph with a thin metal rod. "And each one wants to finance major projects and trips, so if we have to bankroll them, we have to think of ways to either stretch our funds or make more money."

Shirley continued to doodle aimlessly on the margins of a blank page, waiting for the blonde to get to the point. She'd listened for twenty minutes, her patience nearly exhausted.

"And as your fearless leader, I've come up with a plan," she paused for effect, flipping the page of the giant notepad mounted on an easel from bar graphs to stick figures on a raised platform. The crude art peaked Shirley's interest.

"We're going to do a senior auction."

"What?" Nina asked.

Milly's gleeful smile nearly blinded them all.

"We're going to selling ourselves, silly," Milly explained.

Nina remained puzzled.

"I think you're taking that saying a little too literally," Shirley muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Suzaku was the first to show interest in the plan.

"What exactly are we doing?"

Milly beamed, self assured as usual.

"Club members are going to sign up to be auctioned off," she explained, pulling back on one finger at a time whenever she made a point. "And the student body will bid on them. Isn't it great? We'll be rolling in enough dough to help each of the clubs finance their trips."

Rivalz stroked his chin, considering the plan.

"What exactly will the winning bidder be able to do with the student they buy?" he asked.

"Yeah," Shirley piped up. "It seems a little medieval, selling people like that."

Milly's posture straightened.

"Nothing illegal, of course," she said. "It's just a chance to buy a date is all."

_They call that prostitution._

Milly pulled out a flyer to advertise the event. It was nicely designed, with sleek lettering and nice student headshots scattered artfully. There we a few faces that looked familiar, too familiar.

"Hey," Shirley started, frowning. "Why is my photo there?"

"Oh, you noticed?" Milly said. "You know we have to set an example for the rest of the student body, so you're all on the bidding list."

Milly was more of an evil genius than Shirley could have ever made her out to be. She was only envious that Lelouch had picked that day to not show up.

"I can't," Shirley protested. "Swim club."

Milly scowled, annoyed.

"Fine," she conceded. "It's for advertising purposes."

A nagging feeling in her stomach told her otherwise.


	9. Slip

A/N: Just a friendly reminder why this is rated so high. Read on, but don't blame me about not warning you about mature situations. Also, this is a bit lengthier than previous chapters. Just sayin'.

Feedback: Always.

* * *

The phone call from her mother on an early Saturday woke her up.

"Mm, yeah, hi," she mumbled when she pressed the button to answer.

Shirley didn't catch much of the one sided conversation, but understood the words "Get up and come home." She fell off the bed in an ungraceful heap when she rolled on her side.

It was not the best morning she'd had in a while.

-

The glass of orange juice in her hands was slightly warm in her hands as she sipped it slowly, trying to pay attention. The stern look in her mother's expression had her feeling like a misbehaving five-year-old being scolded.

"Have you given any thought to what you want to do after graduating?" Mrs. Fenette asked.

Shirley fiddled with the hem of her shirt, all drowsiness gone, replaced by a bit of the rush she felt when the whistle sounded during swim practice.

"I was wondering about going abroad maybe," she improvised on the spot. "I still haven't decided what I like more—history or writing."

Her mother's face softened. She turned around to reach for something in a bag and produced a stack of papers, about a foot thick.

"Whatever you decide," Mrs. Fenette said, pushing the pile toward Shirley. "Just know that your father and I wanted you to pursue something you loved."

The kiss on Shirley's forehead left her deep in thought as she looked at the covers of overseas universities.

-

Her mother's words echoed back at her during the waking moments of too-early morning, Shirley contemplated the bright covers and smiling faces on grassy hills and imposing buildings. One brochure appeared the very image of an ivory tower—all whitewashed buildings and threatening architecture tailor made for serious academics. It was tossed off to the side.

Among the stack of literature bestowed upon her, she'd found a few that seemed suited to her taste: relaxed, community-oriented and highly regarded in the academic areas of history and journalism. A very few contained the extra perk of having a continent or two of distance to keep away from a certain boy.

Sometime mid-week, she made a list of her top five schools. Her hand reached out to the phone, dialing a familiar number.

"Hi mom," she said after it rang several times. "I need a little help with scheduling times for school tours."

A small vacation was clearly in order.

-

When Friday rolled around, Shirley was blissfully making her way to her dorm to read up on the latest edition of her favorite romance comic when she was intercepted by Milly and Nina.

"And where do you think you're going?" Milly asked testily, hands on hips.

"Uh…" Shirley pointed in the opposite direction.

Both girls grabbed Shirley's arms and dragged her to the student council room.

-

"I never agreed to be auctioned off!" Shirley protested.

Milly, who sometimes had selective deafness (but curiously never suffered from it), picked that moment to call that ailment forth.

"Here," Milly said, sticking a safety pin with the number 11 on the lapel of her uniform jacket.

"You said the posters were just ads!" Shirley called out as Milly ran off to organize the line of participants. She wondered to herself how many had been unwillingly pulled into this scheme.

"We can't have false advertisement, silly," Milly chastised her.

As she conversed with her fellow prisoners, Shirley learned Milly had called meetings more often to get the last minute event on track in short notice. The idea had been announced on a Thursday and Milly had wanted it to be done by Friday of the following week.

The tasks of logistics, organization and marketing went unnoticed by Shirley, as she'd decided to forsake the entire project for the swim practice instead. Lelouch had somehow made time to show up and help with the budgeting and planning, she learned. By the time the day arrived, Shirley was one of the few who didn't hate Milly's guts on a professional level as it had been the most impromptu thing she'd ever planned and they'd barely met the deadline.

Escape attempts didn't help as Shirley had the misfortune of being caught by a frazzled Nina or bossy Milly who herded her back in rank.

Microphone feedback screeched in everyone's ears as Milly made her way to announce the beginning of the bids. The first victim, the captain of the polo club, made his way to the raised dais confidently.

Shirley didn't hear the winning bid, but heard the gleeful screeches of the girl who'd bought him. She swallowed hard.

When her turn arrived, Shirley's first impulse was to run in the opposite direction, but was blocked once more and forcibly turned around by the shoulders to walk forward.

Stage fright freezing her, she stood awkwardly on the dais as Milly blared out something. She felt her hand being taken by the blonde announcer, who raised arms and spun her around. Loud cheering and catcalls followed, scaring her more.

"And for Miss Shirley Fenette, swim team beauty and student council member, the opening bid starts at 70," Milly said. "Do we have 70?"

A hand shot up somewhere near her. A boy with blue eyes she didn't recognize.

"80," a voice cried out further back.

Another hand raised in the crowd.

"90."

"Come on, big spenders," Milly encouraged, winking. "You should see her in a swimsuit. She's quite a sight."

Shirley blanched. _Shut up_, she mouthed to a grinning president who was enjoying her discomfort. The numbers continued to rise as more hands popped up in the multitude.

"100."

"110."

"120."

"That's the spirit," Milly cheered, winking. "Who wants to take this lovely lady out on a date? Think about it, the spring dance is coming up and she's bound to look amazing in a dress. I should know since I've already seen it."

"250."

"500," said a familiar voice from a corner.

The bidding was immediately quieted, as no one dared to top that amount.

Rivalz smiled triumphantly as he walked forward to claim his prize.

Disappointment unexpectedly hit Shirley hard. She was so sure she'd heard someone else's voice. Something deep and sweet rather than slightly screechy and endlessly upbeat.

_Wishful thinking, idiot._

Despite the leaden feeling, Shirley graciously accepted his open hand as she stepped down from the podium. As she watched the rest of the proceedings, she wondered how it was that while Suzaku was bought off, Lelouch had never made it to the podium.

-

Exhaustion caught up to her, giving Lelouch the opening she didn't know he had been waiting for. The following Thursday was especially brutal as she'd lacked enough rest to keep her concentrating properly.

Before getting more than two steps away in the morning rush to class, a hand around her elbow stopped her momentarily.

"Don't forget we have to set up for chem lab," Lelouch reminded her.

Shirley stared blankly ahead, nodding once.

"Right."

She didn't think to wonder why he bothered to remind her. Usually, it was the other way around, as she dispensed information on upcoming events to him. Exams, pop quizzes, student council and anything else to keep him in the loop.

-

Classroom duty called again. Thankfully, no glass apparatus was used for the daily lesson as she helped to straighten out the room. Instead, the supply of class chemicals needed to be organized and cataloged.

Shirley dutifully made notes on the clipboard, yawning every so often as he called out names and amounts. Her eyes were stony as she mechanically scribbled, wanting to finish quickly. They were nearing the end when he called out the final amounts of certain liquids whose names she promptly forgot.

"How's your leg?" he asked suddenly, catching her off guard.

She looked up questioningly.

"It's fine," she answered blandly.

"Can I see?"

Her shoe rested on the edge of his seat, careful to angle herself so as not to give him an eyeful of blue striped underwear as she slipped her sock down. Graceful fingers skimmed across her calf, grabbing her limb lightly. His thumb slid over the thin line of that cut. The rest of her body went numb, save for the place his hand lingered which felt entirely too warm.

She wasn't sure what exactly happened next, except that she noted how his face was more tan than she remembered so up close now that she was suddenly placed atop his knees, her skirt riding up in the process of unintentionally straddling him. The look in his eyes was dangerous, initiating an urge to flee to the nearest exit in sight.

Unfortunately, his arms had decided to lock behind her lower back. And she was pretty sure he was attempting to hypnotize her. Still, no strange red color appeared in his left eye like the last time.

"Lelouch," she said, far softer than she intended. "What are you doing?"

A corner of his mouth lifted as she saw the tilt of his nose and his eyes sliding shut. Traitorous fingers tugged gently at his hair until she was tasting tea and cloves on those terrible, wonderful lips.

The clatter of the falling clipboard snapped her back into the present. Drowsiness gone, it was replaced with panic.

Open door. Potential intruder. Ensuing scandal.

"No," she said, pushing him until she heard him make contact with the back of the chair.

He held her wrists.

"The door's locked."

"Really?" she piped up. And then shook her head. "Wait, that's not the point."

"Then what is?"

The extension cord running from the speakers to the wall held her interest. _Just what I am to you?_ seemed too crazy and random to spout. _And what the hell are you doing?_

"This is wrong," she mumbled. "And-and Rivalz."

Deeply etched lines marked his handsome face.

"You know—auction," she blurted. "And I'm pretty sure I'm his date for the spring dance or whatever, what with all the money he shelled out for me and I have no idea why he'd do that. It's so unexpected and did you know about any of this? Because no one ever told me and this is just out of the blue and I'm here with you instead being all clumsy and getting hurt and –"

His thumb stopped her flow of words, fingers sliding over her face gently.

"I asked him to," Lelouch said.

Her eyes widened momentarily, ingesting his words. More questions hung on the tip of her tongue, one that he intended to occupy it with something else instead. The intense glare he focused on her mouth burned.

He kissed her again.

"Why?" she managed when she came up for air.

His mouth found the spot where her jaw began, somewhere beneath her ear. He nipped at it lightly.

"For me," he said. "As a favor."

She frowned, suddenly furious with him. He was being sneaky and stupid and weird. The life he carried on the side was taking its toll on him, manifesting paranoia in the strangest ways. And that he'd used a proxy made it all the worse.

Her hands made it to his shoulders as she made to get away from him.

The second attempt to extract herself from him resulted in her witnessing him losing control in the most interest way.

He kissed her as softly as before, diffusing her rage.

It was clearly a diversion she realized too late when his hand was already under her skirt. In attempting to stand up, she had accidentally given him the perfect leverage. Easy to slide in and…

She was silky to the touch when he slipped under the stretchy material of her panties.

"Sorry," he said, kissing her neck above the stiff collar of her shirt. "I can't explain better."

A shiver traversed through her spine. Suzaku vaguely registered in her mind and his interest in whatever she had with Lelouch. It was only right that he was being cautious. And yet…

"This is wrong," she repeated, trying to intimidate him through half lidded eyes. A soft gasp in his ear lessened the threat, killing her conviction.

Uncertainty had ruled her ever since she had considered the list of candidates out for his attention on a daily basis. They were all beautiful, strong or influential in some manner. They had qualities to admire and things he needed to further his agenda. What was she but an ordinary schoolgirl? How to compare against such girls?

"Maybe," he told her in between sharp intakes of air. "But you like it."

"Do you?" she asked, a pretty frown on her face as she tried to understand. The ability to concentrate abandoned her as something inevitable and irresistible pushed her forward.

The fingers from his free hand traced nonsensical patterns on the inside of her knee after he pulled her toward him. Caught up in their proximity, she didn't smile or laugh, despite the ticklish sensation.

An unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling, beginning from his fingertips, built up in her. Something greedy made its way through her, trying to figure out what it was about him that made her react so.

Her name was on his lips as she trailed kisses along his cheek, behind his ear. An odd satisfaction filled her as she felt him shiver. The anger building in her for so many days didn't melt away and even though her jealousy was long abandoned, something else took its place.

_You want me._

The meeting of their lips became needy and this wasn't the way she was supposed to kiss him, though he didn't seem to mind. Seemed to like it, in fact, when she nipped at his chin and pulled his lower lip between her teeth.

_You have to._

"Yes," he answered, arching beneath her.

She conceded defeat at his fingertips, panting desperately in his ear as she pressed herself against him.

Images of blindfolding and tying him to her bed ran rampant in her mind as the wandering thumb tracing her mouth came between her teeth. Handcuffs would never do, but she wasn't sure where to obtain rope and not arise suspicious about it. Perhaps a sturdy belt or sash would help, she considered.

"I want," she whispered thickly in his ear. _To rip your heart out, you stupid boy_. "You."

His eyes shut as he attempted to control his shaky breathing.

"I want you," she repeated with the same urgency, clutching the front of his jacket and raining kisses on his face. "Lulu."

Her pulse beat recklessly and undeniably.


	10. Distance

A/N: Updates are becoming less frequent. Sorry. I'm almost finishing up, I swear. I might even have a semi-sorta-kindabutnotreally-sequel up before I finish this one.

Feedback: Do your worst. I dare ya.

* * *

The Pacific Ocean glittered like an endless blue blanket from the vantage point of a plane flying above. Seven hours of flight and Shirley had yet to reach her destination.

A glance at her watch didn't tell her much, except for the time in Tokyo. She guessed she'd crossed the international dateline some time ago, so she was several hours, if not a day behind.

Tokyo.

The name conjured up a different image, one of a boy who had surreptitiously been chasing her like a shadow. His motivations were unclear to her, though he hadn't asked her anything about Suzaku.

In the position they had been…was more than a little distracting for questions.

Blood rushed to her cheeks recalling the near incident. They'd been lucky not have been caught in such a compromising situation. She'd packed her bags immediately and snatched her passport, practically fleeing to the airport the next morning without notifying anyone after she'd gotten the unexpected call from her mother that night about scheduling university tours in the span of a week and a half.

Rather than celebrate that he'd kissed her (repeatedly and on more than one occasion), her own defenses were showing up unexpectedly in response to him. The other him, the one masked and armed and dangerous.

He knew.

He knew that she knew.

If he'd been suspicious before, she'd confirmed whatever it was he had previously only guessed at.

Zero. One name, two syllables. Funny how the little things mattered after all.

She'd somehow been able to extricate herself and run like hell. Not run, per se, but walk really, really agitated out of that damned classroom on rubber legs that somehow didn't let her stumble. A head too full of thoughts, she hadn't looked back to see if he'd run after her.

Not that it mattered.

Soon, she'd be out of the country and away from him. She reviewed the folder containing information on her university picks. Four schools, four different countries. Ten days to see them.

-

The view from the window of her dorm was very beautiful. Awe-inspiring, it begged to be recorded on film or canvas. A light breeze brought in the sweet scent of an unknown flower growing nearby.

Shirley had written a 'maybe' for the previous school, the second to last on the agenda. She didn't know what to write for the current one.

In the past nine days, the scenery had shifted so quickly from mountainous landscapes to beaches and even a sandy desert, it was hard to say what exactly she was looking for. The changes in topography didn't help her make up her mind. It failed to impress her for some reason.

The plane ticket in her pocket sized notebook reminded her of how brief her time had been. The notes from the past week and a half were uneventful. The dullest tour she'd undergone had been at a religious school where the nuns had them in bed before the sun had completely set. Still, the scenery excluded boys, which made for a giant plus given her experience at school.

She reviewed her notes, as boring as she had experienced the places she'd been.

_Arrived at airport at 5 a.m. Plane took off at 7 a.m._

_Checked in with residential rep. Toured the university grounds. Met with academic advisors._

_Dinner at 6 p.m. Slept a few hours. Jet lag must be getting to me._

The nightly visions of black figures were extended to include gunshots, shouted orders and the same blank hallway she was always led down. None of those thoughts made it to the pages of her notebook.

The unfamiliar ceilings were the cause of her distress, she surmised, though found herself doubting it. Still, she had learned to cope with her insomnia, finding the times when her energy grew and waned throughout the day. Mornings and nights had her wide awake while the lull of the afternoons had her eyelids drooping and struggling to pay attention.

"Hey there," she heard the voice beside her at the dinner table.

A boy whose name she didn't remember invited her out to some sort of party.

"It'll be fun," he insisted, blonde hair glinting like gold in the dying remnants of sunlight. Hazel eyes, warm and sweet, beckoned to her. She found herself staring at lavender flowers in the flowerbed crowding an oak tree outside the window.

"Sure," she nodded, following.

His name was Robert and he was a first year studying art history. He said he'd been hoping to become a curator in a minimalist art collection of a museum. She listened to him talk, listing unfamiliar names as he talked about his field of interest.

Shirley smiled behind the plastic cup she'd filled at a keg. It wasn't as good as the beer offered at the Ginza pub though she drank it anyway. Bad music blared in the common room of the dorm building with bodies swaying in an imitation of dancing.

She was slightly unsteady on her feet by the time she got to her third cup, barely making out his words. He was handsome when he smiled and seemed to do so a lot in her presence. Clearly, he was interested.

"Take me back, please," she requested.

He followed beside her, chatting amiably. A lone trumpet blew out from someone's open window. She recognized the melody, humming along with it.

"What is that?" Robert asked.

"A classic," she replied as the trumpeter continued filling the wind with its sound. A piano accompaniment followed soon, angry and loud. Whoever was playing was pounding hard on the keys.

Jazz was played according to one's mood. She could guess what the piano player was feeling.

Shirley could imagine another person with her instead of the stranger beside her. But then, Lelouch was part of the reason she'd even considered leaving. Escaping was a conscious decision on her part to make her life normal somehow, keep herself from being sucked into whatever megalomaniacal plot he was hatching.

_Stupid boy._

He'd included this track on the CD he'd slipped under her door.

If she intended to let him go once and for all, there was something else to try. She stopped in front of the door of her dorm building, spinning on her heel to face him. She wobbled somewhat, her coordination off and supported herself against the glass door instead.

"You ok?" Robert asked lightly.

She nodded.

He smiled, though it didn't quite make her insides stir considering what she was about to do.

"Think you'll be attending here?"

She shrugged, both hands flat on the rough stone wall behind her back.

"Still thinking about it," she replied, staring at the floor to steady her vision. "I've got some time before I graduate, so it's possible."

She looked at his eyes, lit up by the halogen bulb of a nearby light post. He continued talking, saying something about the college he attended, babbling on and on.

She pushed herself off, hands scratched by the hard wall and stepped on tiptoes. She learned he smoked cigarettes under the taste of cheap beer and he smelled of a strong cologne.

Nothing.

No heart-skipping, knee-weakening, bone-melting moment.

Her heart sank.

"Good night," she said sweetly and made her way to her room.

At the very least, she got him to shut up.

-

She turned the pages of her notebook to a blank one, neatly scribbling in the day's date.

_Nothing interesting. I return tomorrow._

Half a world away from war and destruction and conspiracies, she felt tired and frustrated. Distance didn't help much in forgetting. Reminders popped up every so often. She found herself even comparing him to others. Her eyes tended to follow a head of black hair when it came into her sight, finding fault with those who didn't match up exactly and...

The school tours didn't do the trick of making her forget. It exacerbated the problem, as she found herself fretting over him rather than fearing him.

Lelouch could wipe her memory completely clean once more and she was sure she'd fall just as hard. Because he was always doing things to fascinate her and goad her into digging more information about him, she was doomed.

She was in love, incurably and stupidly so, having done it twice.

The sprig of lavender twirled between her fingers, fascinated by the dark shade.

She wrote a "yes" next to the school's name.

Sleep refused to come to her and forced her to repack her oversized backpack twice to pass the time. Shirley's thoughts as she stared at the ceiling centered on the boy.

Eventually, she got up and across the hallway to the deserted bathroom, where none of the stalls were being occupied at 2 a.m. The warm spray soothed her.

Dark hair came into view when her eyes shut. He was infuriatingly gorgeous. And the way he'd touched her…

One hand slipped up her thigh as she tried to recreate the sensation. He had been all kisses and caresses, drawing her mind to a complete blank when she'd had so many questions. She'd only wanted to feel without analyzing and accept whatever he wanted to give.

Whatever had brought up the sudden urge to corner her in the classroom, she would never know. She only wanted it to happen again, somewhere more private.

The image of him in her bed, pinned beneath him appeared to her. Those dark eyes fixed on her, hands undressing her, mouth attached to her.

Her forehead leaned against the slick wall of the stall, panting.

It was not the same.


	11. Obtain

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me on this. As you can see, this is my 'what if' scenario regarding these two. Sigh. If only the series had included them together in a slightly more permanent way, it would've been so much better. But enough about me.

Feedback: Sí.

* * *

The flight back was uneventful for the most part, save for some mild turbulence in the fourth hour that inadvertently opened a few of the overhead compartments. The passenger beside Shirley, a middle aged man, stood up to rearrange the luggage.

A newspaper slid off the man's lap as he moved, falling on the floor beside her. As she leaned toward it, she noted how the headlining story took up most of the top half on the front page.

_Britannian Army Announces Ceasefire With Black Knights _

It had been a while since she'd bothered to read up on his progress. Lelouch was choosing diplomacy for the time being, apparently. The corners of her mouth lifted a bit, oddly pleased.

* * *

She didn't suspect anything strange when the plane in the Philippines. The captain had announced a slight delay to get minor updates on the computer system.

Shirley took the time to explore the airport in Manila during the 75 minutes or so the plane was grounded. She made one phone call after purchasing a long distance card.

The number she dialed rang exactly five times before going to voicemail.

"Hey mom," she said. "I'm on my way back, but the plane landed in Manila for some maintenance or something. I don't know what time I'll land. Just thought you'd like to know. I'll see you soon."

She hung up and immediately heard the announcement for her flight to reboard.

* * *

Sleep crept up on her unexpectedly as she rested for the duration of the flight back home. She was awakened by the not so smooth landing of the plane hitting the tarmac.

Half out of it, she stumbled out of her seat in the midst of the passengers gathering their belongings and crowding the entrance until the door opened. As she pulled on her backpack to fall into her waiting arms from the overhead compartment, the sound of a scream startled her.

In the slow line filing out of the plane, she made out a few figures in the darkened runway outside the small windows. Each carried something long and sharply angled in their hands.

Dread pooled in her stomach, heavy and uncomfortable.

* * *

Even under the mask and cape and distorted voice, she noted the little things that made up the person she recognized.

The use of certain words. The regal posture of his gait. The elegant manner he conducted himself.

She never would have pegged him for having a dramatic streak, but it worked to his advantage. All the schemes he strategized had a sense of theater. But it seemed like him in a way, to put on a show of misdirection.

He was the only real life magician she'd come across, pulling victories out of thin air, escaping entrapment on more than one occasion and presenting his followers with a vision of the future. From her spot on the floor beside the large window, Shirley wondered what kind of tricks he intended to play on her.

He left without making any announcements, turning on his heel and walking out from the direction he entered.

"Come with me," one of the armed terrorists instructed her.

Whoever it was, she had a soft, bored sounding voice under the mask. Shirley got to her feet, careful not to give any of the Black Knights reason to aim and shoot.

Her eyes look over the thin figure of the girl as she was led away from the large crowd of hostages and into an area of the airport not meant for the general public. The gun at the girl's side gestured her to turn a corner.

"Walk," she commanded, toneless and cold.

A careful poke at her back reinforced the word. Shirley continued, feeling slightly nauseous when a strong sense of déjà vu hit her like a wave.

The white, blank hallway awaited her just beyond the double doors she pushed through. She'd seen this often enough in her dreams to know how it went. Shirley counted her footsteps as they went down the hallway.

_Four, five, six._

Looking down, even the threadbare carpet was exactly as she'd seen it, muffling the sound of her shoes hitting the ground. She guessed that perhaps this was an older wing of the entire structure, seeing how it was more poorly lit than the rest of the building, a few lamps protruding from the walls as she made her way forward with guide in tow.

_Ten, eleven, twelve._

"Stop," the girl instructed her, sounding annoyed for reasons Shirley couldn't begin to fathom.

Again, she'd stopped at fifteen. No more words were exchanged as Shirley turned to her right and noted the doorknob. Her fingers reached out to the cold metal, lingering on the smooth feel of stainless steel for a moment. There was no further prompting as she drew in a deep breath, twisting the handle and pushing the door in.

"Here goes," she mumbled.

The room is dimmer than the hallway, illuminated by a single desk lamp near a bookshelf full of binders. The rest of the room was lined with filing cabinets, save for where he waited.

Zero, the Britannian empire's number one adversary and overall hell raiser stood a mere few feet away from her. He stood on the opposite side of the lamp near a large couch as the door clicked shut. Her eyes roamed over his black cape, down to the boots and upward once more to the mask as the backpack slid off her shoulders to hit the ground softly.

His appearance seemed to take up most of the space around her despite the distance between them.

Her hands shook slightly as she steeled herself to go forward with one and then both feet. Fingers uncurled from tight fists as something slowly dawned on her.

He knew.

The wall of ignorance had been knocked down some time ago and he figured it out. He would have found out, sooner or later. Lelouch had never been stupid. It was only now that she was coming to realize the consequences of slipping up when her guard was down.

Both feet were cemented several feet away from him. She took the time to study him up close, taking in his shape beneath the dark clothes, the mask and the authoritative airs. Familiarity washed over her as she'd watched him and observed his mannerisms.

"I know you," she said, voice surprisingly calm to her own ears.

He remained impassive and did not move. The only reassurance she had of him not being a statue was the rhythmic movement of his chest. It was a small comfort to know he was a live person and not a live sized puppet under the heavy clothing.

Still, it nagged her not to know what expression was beneath the mask.

"I know you," she repeated. "I know I do."

He made no movement and she took it as a sign to press forward. The tentative first step emboldened her to take a second and third step until she was mere inches away from him.

This close, she noted the slight shaking of his hands. It surprised her to know that such a confident person was capable of being frightened. Of her, no less—unarmed and nonthreatening. The knowledge softened something inside her.

"Outside of this place," she continued. "You know me, too. Right?"

Unable to see through the heavy tint of the visor, she was dying to reconfirm that the first time was not an accident. That it was his face she'd unmistakably seen when the mask had fallen off in the damaged Knightmare. That it was for his sake she was willing to shoot and hurt anyone threatening him with any harm.

Her hands reached out to his wrists before lightly skimming upward. She traversed the angle of his shoulders and allowed her fingers to barely slip under the scarf. The sliver of skin beneath her touch was alarmingly warm, bordering on feverish.

Utterly fascinated, her attention returned to his face. She thought it conceited to even fathom that she had such an effect on him, even though she'd seen and felt it for herself.

Slowly, as if to warn him, her fingers moved from his throat upward. She traced along the bottom of the mask, searching for the mechanism to loosen it. She moved along the oval lines of the visor, finding the nearly imperceptible button after three turns.

It gave away easily when she pushed it. She hesitated even though he didn't stop her. She didn't understand the reason for all this, for wanting to let her know now.

She breathed in, counting to ten to allow him a moment to reconsider.

_Ten_, she thought before her hands rested on either side of the thing and lifted upward.

Remorse was reflected in his dark eyes.

Despite being taller, he appeared smaller and so very fragile under the weight of regrets. She pushed him back, shoved him really, until he stumbled on the edge of the couch. The motion forced him to sit unexpectedly. Before shutting his eyes to the impending slap to the face, he saw her foot lift in mid step. And waited.

Nothing happened for a long moment. Courage bled out of him, unable to look at her as a deep frown etched itself on his forehead.

The warmth of her body reached him before any initiated contact. She moved forward, raising one knee to the couch until it stopped beside his hip. Her other leg followed until she was boldly sitting atop his knees. Her hands eventually reached his face, although not in the way he had braced himself for. Gentle, insistent pressure touched his cheeks, traced his jaw and skimmed along his throat.

She was as lethal as a newborn kitten and they both knew it.

He shuddered, despite himself.

_You're afraid…of me._

Both hands lowered from their current spot as Shirley imagined he might think her capable of choking him on the spot.

"Look at me," she demanded, eyes searching him.

Reluctantly, his eyes slid open to that soft look he'd graced her with once.

They shared a lengthy stare; hers steady, his worn out.

"I'm sorry," he had, eyes steeling a bit before her.

She could've tackled him then, hit him, scratched him, anything. One hand reached up to his hair, damp from sweat and nerves. If he had been afraid of physical pain, he wouldn't have bothered. But this gesture was different, because he wanted her to know.

"If I had known about your father," he went on, voice breaking. "I wouldn't have—"

She slapped him harder than Kallen had ever done, leaving him seeing stars in the wake of her fury. The clapping sound of skin seemed like something out of a melodramatic soap opera, so out of place in this situation, she observed.

His torso twisted to one side where her fingertips ended. He supported his weight on one elbow among the lumpy cushions and didn't react. She paused, hand in midair, feeling the sting in her palm where she'd made contact with his face.

She made the first move, digging her fingers in the upholstery of the headrest before leaning down and hovering over him.

"I forgive you," she said, practically sneering as her nose brushed lightly on the shell of his ear. "Lulu."

After straightening herself on his lap, her fingers closed around his scarf, dragging him toward her. When her arms came around his shoulders and gripped him tightly, he relaxed, inhaling her.

"You stupid boy," she said sharply. "Idiot. Moron. Son of a bitch. Jerk."

She didn't know how to hate him, not completely and utterly and with as much conviction as she loved him. His arms slid up from the rough fabric of her jeans around her waist, trapping her against him. Even if neither one could breathe, everything was fine in that one moment.

The air stood still enough for both of them.


	12. Words

A/N: Hello all.

Just a quick thanks for everyone who's been reading. I really appreciate your attention. And just a reminder that this is will be ending with one more chapter that I'm still working on. I'm a little sad, especially since I've really enjoyed writing this story. And really, Shirley and Lelouch need more love. I love reading about these two.

Feedback: Si. I'd like to know what you think about what worked, what didn't and why. The order doesn't matter though. It's the thought that counts, people.

Enough of my rambling and on with the story.

* * *

A flash of lightning in the distance silently lit up the name of Joseph Fenette's tombstone.

"Hi, dad," she smiled softly.

The strap of her backpack slid off one shoulder and she unzipped a side compartment, fishing for a paper covered item. Carefully, she unwrapped the paper from the plastic tube and opened one end to slide out a stick of incense.

The disposable lighter she bought in a convenience store emerged from her pocket.

"Look what I brought you," she offered through a watery smile. "It's from Calcutta." She frowned lightly, turning it over in her hands. "At least, that's what the package has printed. But it still comes from very far away."

She lit up the end of the stick, watching the ember glow in the darkness. The fragrant smoke wafted upward in delicate wisps. She buried the thin wooden handle in the ground.

"I hope you like sandalwood."

Lelouch's face came to mind when she closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet scent. It calmed her slightly somewhat, recalling the genuine regret in his gaze.

She wiped away the accumulated moisture in her eyes from tears too stubborn to shed on their own. Above her, the stars were slowly being eclipsed by the rolling clouds.

She waited until the stick burned out.

"I'll be back soon," she promised.

-

The rain coincided with her arrival to Ashford Academy.

Despite being too wired to sleep, Shirley went through the motions of getting ready for bed as she got out of her heavy jeans and into the last item of pajamas—red flannel boxers and a nearly threadbare sleeveless shirt.

Her thoughts continued to revolve around Lelouch, beneath the black disguise. She could still see her dark reflection on his visor and how his hands shook under the leather of his gloves.

The storm didn't allow her to check up on the news, especially with the constant crash of thunder outside her window as a reminder not to do so. Shirley found herself wondering if he'd considered her request.

"No casualties," she had begged him in a fervent whisper. "Please."

She hadn't let go until he nodded and only then left reluctantly. Her worrying hadn't ceased a few hours after being led out through a maze of tunnels with a guide leading her in a zigzag pattern.

It was while fleeing that her guide, the one who'd ushered her into the meeting with Zero, left several things behind as they turned corner after corner.

Along the way, parts of the uniform came off—a bulletproof vest and visor went first, followed by the large gun and her cap. Shirley couldn't stop herself from staring at C.C. when her green hair tumbled over her shoulders and looked into the amber eyes of her sort-of captor, sort-of guide.

"I-you," she stammered. "I've seen you before."

The aloof stare seemed somewhat familiar, even in the eyes of the girl in front of her. Shirley had seen the slow smirk etch itself into C.C.'s face. While she'd been jealous of the artist's rendering in the dull gray newspaper, C.C. was breathtaking in person.

"I can see the attraction," C.C. remarked off hand.

She didn't miss the appraising look thrown at her, scrutinizing her. It reminded her of Milly's leering and the unsubtle innuendo that usually followed.

Shirley went crimson.

"W-what?" she blubbered, eyes wide.

C.C.'s smirk grew more pronounced.

"You should know he hasn't been with another girl," C.C. had assured her. "I didn't think he had it in him."

"Then why are you here?" Shirley asked, suddenly confused with the closeness between the two and Lelouch's trust in C.C.

"It's not like that between me and him," C.C. clarified. "We have an agreement."

Shirley frowned, head cocked slightly to one side as she continued walking.

"Make sure not to distract him," C.C. warned sternly. "He can't afford it."

Even without a weapon, C.C. was intimidating, Shirley noted as she nodded dumbly once and continued on. It seemed a strange thing to consider, to even think she could have any effect on Lelouch. His face flashed before her on the blank wall, eyes soft and pleading.

Before reaching the end of the tunnels to the surface, another comment made Shirley stop in her tracks.

"He's gone through your underwear, you know," C.C. commented airily.

It was too ridiculous to take seriously.

Not quite a chuckle, a brief exhale of air escaped Shirley at the fresh memory. A lock of hair that escaped from a loose braid floated away from her before landing beside her face.

"Oh, please," she muttered to herself as she unpacked her bag.

Mostly dirty laundry greeted her once she unzipped the backpack, which she piled in a corner to be ignored until later. The few souvenirs she'd picked up during her travels emerged from within the bag—a snow globe wrapped up in a pair of jeans; a small wooden box hidden in a shoe; a photo frame folded between a pair of shirts; and a stack of postcards in her notebook. A side compartment was next as she carefully extracted a sturdy plastic tube among bubble wrap.

Sleep was impossible to come by and her usual distraction of checking up on news was not possible with the constant crashing sounds outside the window. The accumulated pile of homework was the only thing left for her to do.

She ignored it and thought more of him.

-

A few hours later and the clearing weather in the early dawn gave her time to search through the latest news. From what she gathered, the Britannian government was either covering the incident or no one had really understood what transpired.

Shirley was confused although relieved when she noted the lack of any death toll. Britannian officials had quoted no loss of lives, although some trauma had distorted several witnesses' stories, according to preliminary medical examinations.

She collapsed face down on her bed, rendered tired from stress. Lelouch's face came to mind as she fell into a fitful sleep while being worried sick.

-

The clock display of her phone told her it was past 4 a.m. when she opened her eyes. The sounds of a storm crashed outside her window after a ray of lightning lit up her room momentarily.

Groggy and oddly exhausted, Shirley proceeded to clear up the messy state of her room. The giant pile of clothes she'd carelessly tossed on the floor were the first to go.

The three knocks on the door were unexpected as she straightened her desk. She slid on a robe as she tiptoed around the room. Aside from her mother, she hadn't told anyone of her arrival.

The three knocks were heard again—the first followed by a brief silence and then two more.

Carefully, the door opened a crack, enough to recognize the silhouette. The burdensome pressure that had bothered her lightened considerably.

The desk lamp illuminated the darkened hallway momentarily when she let Lelouch in.

"Hi," he said softly, dripping water on the carpeted floor of her dorm.

It was an odd relief to see him outside of that black uniform, wearing old jeans and a gray shirt underneath his favorite red and black jacket instead.

"Hey," she replied, equally low. "You're soaked."

She didn't move away, hand touching his cheek. He towered over her slightly, a few rain drops falling on her face. His eyes followed the trail of one drop down her cheek. Without thinking, her tongue darted out to taste the rain on the corner of her mouth.

Despite his intense stare, she managed to stay composed.

"I think you need to get out of those clothes," she stated gently. "You'll get sick otherwise."

Turned away from him, she winced at her choice of words, praying it wouldn't turn out like a scene from a bad porn film. Amazingly, he listened as she heard the dull thud of heavy clothes hit the ground.

Blushing profusely, she moved away to retrieve a plastic bin from under her bed, removing old notebooks and photo albums.

"You're liable to cause a scandal," she said dryly as she stretched her arm behind her to avoid looking at him.

He placed a very wet t-shirt in her open palm, which she wrung out over the bin. The damp cloth hung over her desk chair.

"Sorry," he said, sounding very defeated as he kicked off his shoes.

She held out her hand again, surprised at the leaden weight of his pants. She started with the pant legs and nearly filled up the bin when she could no longer draw out any more water. A metal hanger from her closet held the item in place to dry out.

He was sitting on the edge of her bed when she turned to him. Her mouth went dry.

The image was something straight of her fantasies: Lelouch sitting on her bed, mostly undressed except for a pair of blue boxers. The loosely tied belt of her short robe was immediately undone as she slid it off.

"Hey!" he said, clearly surprised.

"I'm out of towels," she explained when it came over his head, instantly blinding him. "Being away and all, so yeah," she ended lamely.

She rubbed his hair through the terry cloth. She wondered if he could notice her fumbling hands despite not being able to see.

"Ow," he stated bluntly.

Her hands immediately backed off.

"Sorry," she apologized. "Are you hurt?"

"Kind of," he replied under the heavy fabric.

The robe collected around his shoulders as she inspected the bump.

"Why didn't you tell me you were wounded?" she scolded.

She went to her backpack, retrieving the travel sized first aid kit.

"Thought it was more important to see you," Lelouch mumbled.

She carefully pressed a gauze pad against his head to clean up a thin trickle of blood. Reassured that nothing worse had happened, she kissed the top of his head lightly.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" she asked.

His hands came up then, sliding past her arms to encircle her waist and forced her to step in between his knees. She took that as a 'no.'

The robe fell over his back as he pressed his face against her stomach. His damp hair soaked easily through her thin shirt. Shirley felt herself melt at the contact, her legs threatening to give out and collapse on him. Which wouldn't have been so bad, considering their respective positions…

One hand reached the nape of his neck while the other buried itself in his hair.

"Shirley," he said, voice muffled.

Warm breath tickled her skin. His head moved, chin resting below her ribs as she stared at her. He seemed younger than she'd ever seen him, inquisitive eyes studying her. She was sorely tempted to push him down and have her way with him.

"How long have you known?" he asked quietly, arms tightening around her.

The action caused her to step towards him again, their bodies pressing closer.

Her hand moved away from his hair to his temple. His left eyelid slid shut as her thumb moved with deliberate slowness across it. She breathed in deeply before heaving a reluctant sigh.

"The shopping district," she answered.

A black eyebrow lifted. Perfect teeth came out to settle on his lower lip. He appeared surprised or at least mildly disappointed for not having figured it out sooner.

She sat beside him when he released her, the residual warmth lingering from where he'd touched her. He seemed to be on the verge of asking another question and stopped short, looking away instead.

Her hand reached for his face again, palm against his cheek as she made him look at her. She leaned in towards him, deliberately pressing her chest against his side.

"Stay," she whispered in his ear as she nuzzled his neck. "Ask me anything you want. Just stay."

She felt him shiver beside her and took it as her cue to get under the covers. He followed not too long afterward. There was no prompting needed to get him to his arm around her.

The initial giddiness and nerves drained out of her eventually as her fingers trailed along his shoulder and down his back. She stared to her heart's content at that face that had haunted her all day. A comfortable silence settled between them as they shared a pillow.

"Where did you go?" he asked, forehead touching against hers.

Her fingers stopped the slow nonsensical pattern on his arm. She was taken aback more by the unexpected wounded tone than the actual question.

"University tours," she replied.

"So far away?" he asked through closed eyes, a frown creasing between his forehead.

"Yeah," she chuckled at his slight pout. "South America, mostly."

"Why there?" he continued.

"Change of scene," she shrugged, being deliberately vague. If he chose not to reveal some things, then she could do the same. Mentally, she stuck out her tongue at him.

"Is that all?" Lelouch muttered, lying on his back. "The only reason you wanted to go so far away?"

She sighed quietly, having forgotten how perceptive he could be. But then, he'd been the creator of the current conflict dominating the news.

"I don't," she started and hesitated. "Don't really want to be here."

He said nothing, threading his fingers with hers and bringing it up to his lips to kiss her knuckles.

"Not sure I can take it," she attempted to explain. "Lulu."

Her words echoed back to her after she'd spoken and she feared he would misinterpret. She shifted her weight, supporting her weight on an elbow and pushing their joined hands beside his head.

"Don't you dare erase my memories," she threatened.

Her green eyes were darkened in the apricot shade of lamplight.

"I am _not_ going through that again," she told him, voice edged with anger. "Understand?"

His free hand moved to her face, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His thumb lightly traced her lips.

"Yeah," he assured her.

Shirley leaned into him, kissing his left eye. His insides felt crushed by a simple gesture. C.C. had been right after that first time. One kiss and he fell to pieces. Seeing Shirley this close, all softness and warmth, it was no wonder.

"Good," she said, lying back down on her side. "I don't like being left in the dark."

Lelouch wound an arm around her.

"I can't apologize enough," he mumbled into her hair as he nuzzled her affectionately. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Warm breath blew through her hair and into her ear. A vulnerable look in her eyes appeared when she looked up at him.

"Is that why you spent so much time with me?" she wondered aloud. "You were making it up to me?"

"No."

She remained unconvinced as his palm pressed against her face.

"Curiosity," he told her before redirecting the question at her. "Is that why _you_ spent so much time with me?"

She went very still and shook her head at the preposterous question.

"Of course not," she nearly scoffed.

Looking away, she schooled her features to keep him from seeing her bewildered expression. He brushed the hair out of her eyes. A breath of short, incredulous laughter escaped him before pressing his lips gently against her temple.

"There were times when you looked at me like you knew more than you let on," he said. "Like there was something you were hiding and wouldn't tell anyone."

She said nothing, intent on not interrupting him. In all the time she'd known him, he'd never opened up like this before. In light of all that had transpired between them, she felt entitled to answers.

"And?" she pushed lightly. "I looked secretive. That's why you got close?"

He licked his lips. The sight distracted her.

"At first," he admitted, pushing more errant strands of hair away from her face. "But then, I figured there was more I wanted to know about you, just for myself."

He toyed with the ends of her badly braided hair. Rain continued to crash against her window.

"I wanted to know if you'd figured it out," he told her. "And if you had, I wanted to know how. But somewhere along the way, I just wanted your attention. Suzaku seemed to have noticed."

He sighed, looking at her.

"He approached you, right?"

Shirley nodded, dumbstruck. Lelouch was sharper than she gave him credit for.

"When did you know?" she asked, staring intently at the pillow to avoid looking at him. "That I knew?" she finished, feeling slightly foolish.

He looked away.

Visualizing the incident, no doubt. The memory haunted them both: her harsh breath on his skin, the hungry kisses, the heated stares, his hand between her legs, driving her insane. He'd made her she divulged the only secret she'd kept from him.

"The, um, chem lab," he managed.

"Was that on purpose?"

He opened his mouth to answer and then shut it.

"Meaning?"

Despite being comfortable with wearing less than ever and lying in bed with him, the memory of their last encounter made the heat rise on her cheeks.

"Was that some kind of interrogation?" she asked meekly, instantly mortified as she hid her face in the pillow.

She wouldn't have been surprised if he'd laughed at her then.

"No."

The single word sent her reeling. Shyly, she shifted her head, peeking up at him with one eye. His face was an interesting shade, one she could've easily identified if not for the dim light.

"Curiosity," he said simply.

Shirley coughed suspiciously and he heard the word 'pervert' amid the noise.

"As I recall, you liked it," he reminded her with a small frown.

She smacked his arm before repositioning it around her ribs. Her leg slid upwards, swinging over his hip. He shifted slowly over her, a perfect pair of amethyst orbs gazing down at her.

"Thanks," she said softly.

He frowned, puzzled.

"For what?"

Where the strap of her shirt had fallen to the side, he kissed her shoulder softly. He looked down at her chest, where the thin cotton barely covered her. Rather than being insulted, she was flattered by the dark gaze he fixed on her.

"Keeping Suzaku away," she answered.

She leaned upward momentarily, sliding her lips against his chin before lying back down. He sought her hands, kissing her palms and wrists before straightening out her fingers against his face.

"What do you see in me?" he asked in a small voice.

The deep color of his eyes bore down on her questioning, unsure of her answer. Her bones dissolved when she managed to identify that particular look. He was in her hands, without defenses and startlingly open. Vulnerable.

She wondered where the resolve to tear him apart had gone. Far from that, the two were sharing caresses and softly spoken words. She blamed their exhaustion.

"Quid pro quo," she breathed out. "Agreed?"

He kissed her forehead.

"Anything."

She smiled gently at him.

"Suzaku asked me the same thing once," she remarked.

His forehead creased, and she got the feeling it was more than interest in Suzaku's inquiries on his masked identity.

"What did you say?"

"It's like you said," she replied. "Curiosity."

His eyes closed, jaw leaning into her hand.

"I never did find out why you helped out that old couple in freshman year," she went on.

"They needed the help," he droned out, eyes closing at her touch. "And the guy blaming them was a real bastard. Tell me he didn't deserve it."

She laughed lightly, agreeing.

"You're scarily intelligent," she said, fingers tracing over his face. "But then, I already know you pretty well. You like history and science and detective novels. Mint tea. Semisweet chocolate. Adding pepper to ketchup when you're eating fries. Not the biggest fan of poetry, but you have certain favorites."

Despite the exhaustion on his face, she saw his eyes lighten.

"You're a walking contradiction," she finished.

"Why's that?" he queried.

"Because you make me angry and happy."

"And sad?" he interrupted.

"Sometimes," she admitted, to which he kissed her cheek for the honesty. "A regular walking paradox. But I've kind of learned to read you. I can tell when you're lying through your teeth or when you're being sincere, but those seem to be rare with you."

A sheepish kind of grin made it to his face.

"And you scare me a little because I don't want this to be a prank you're playing on me, that will leave you laughing at me for being a silly girl with a crush," she blurted out, looking away to the corner of the blank ceiling. "I'd rather you let me in on the joke."

His lips touched her neck with long, languorous kisses. Blood rushed madly through her veins, her fingers gripping his hand hard. He stopped right beneath her ear.

"That's all I'm asking for," she mumbled.

"In case you haven't noticed," he said, smooth voice washing over her skin. "You're already in."

Elated, Shirley was torn between getting answers or getting them both out of what little clothes they had. They'd been good so far about being restrained in their contact and cautious about how to touch each other. Even though it would've been easy for him, Lelouch hadn't moved underneath her almost nonexistent top or her tiny sleep shorts. She would've let him if he'd wanted and cheerfully sought out his skin.

Shaky breathing steadied after several dozen heartbeats passed. She bit her lip hard and counted to twenty to drive away more deviant thoughts of tangling their limbs.

"Quid pro quo," she repeated.

"You're beautiful," he answered right away.

Uncomfortable warmth concentrated on her cheeks.

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Lelouch hushed her with his fingertips over her lips. Her mouth pouted in response, kissing his hand.

"Not just any girl will chase a cat in a swimsuit," he clarified, glaring down at her. "Or make friends with a soldier who has a reputation as a suspected murderer."

She looked away to the linear pattern on her curtains, unsure of how to respond.

"It's the little things, really," he went on, pushing back wayward strands of hair from her eyes. "Things you have that I don't. Things that remind me of what I'm fighting for. Things that I want to keep."

He studied her wrist, brushing his thumb over her skin, memorizing the lines of her veins through the light skin.

"Like what?"

Her fingers brushed against his face when he kissed the inside of her wrist.

"Your conscience," he replied. "That you're generous, even with me, despite everything. That you're still willing to share your smile with me and stay beside me. And maybe it's just me being selfish, but I don't really care, as long as I can have you."

He stifled a yawn, eyes growing heavy. Despite the exhaustion, he noticed the disbelieving look she gave him.

"You wanted to know," he said nonchalantly as way of response.

"Speaking of which," she began, looking around at random things in the room and ignored his quizzical stare. "Is it true you rifled through my underwear?"

He cleared his throat and looked away.

"It was an investigation at the time," he told her, to which she giggled. He had to find a way to get even with C.C. at some point.

A smile appeared beneath her hand.

"We are so weird."

He nodded.

"I'll take what I can get."

Her leg brushed against his. The touch popped an idea into her head, regarding their current situation.

"In that case, I get reasonable access to your room."

"Huh?" was his unintelligible question, brow arching.

"I get to hang out with you," she reiterated. "In your room. I'm not asking to know about any plans, but you're not keeping me away. Not from you."

He was still hovering over her, observing for any traces of regret as he brushed the hair away from her face. Either she had none or she was hiding them very well, he deduced. This was likely to end soon and disastrously, he figured, but would leave it to her to decide on their fate regarding this because he had no way to derive any conclusions about her. She was strong, so much more than him, while overcoming the tragedy in her life. The one caused by his hand, no matter how well he'd planned a strategy.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "About me?"

She pushed away the hand in her hair, looping one arm around his neck and supporting herself on the other. Her breasts were tantalizingly soft against his chest—an insistent warmth surged through him and oh, she was inspiring dirty thoughts so easily. He could imagine her supple body spread out all over the mattress so vividly it almost hurt.

"Yes," she informed him and her tone became stern, warning him. "But I'm not sharing you, no matter how many international treaties are on the line."

The tone of her voice didn't allow for arguments, that strength appearing to surprise him again in her welcoming embrace. She reached for one his hands, leading it above her breast where a steady pulse continued.

"We don't have to call this anything," she finished in a quiet whisper before kissing his ear.

He bit his lip, looking so utterly boyish in his uncertainty it pained her.

"What are you getting out of this?" she wondered aloud. "It's not like I can give you anything."

Her hold on him did not relax as she brought him back down with her towards the pillow, maneuvering so that his head lay on her chest. She didn't mind how his hand skimmed lightly over her breast to slide onto her waist instead.

"It's more than you think."

A steady heart beat pounded rhythmically beneath him along with the sound of her constant breathing. It soothed him.

Her eyes closed at the blank ceiling above them both. She gingerly combed through his damp locks.

"I love you," she confessed easily.

She felt the smile on his face, palm against his cheek.

"Say that again," he requested.

Chest expanding under him momentarily, he felt the deep sigh enter her lungs before being dispelled in three words.

"I love you."


	13. Concede

A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading.

Just as a final note, just wanted to say that I pulled inspiration from a number of sources for a few chapters (i.e. "Intrigue" had a song from Billie Holiday; "Ascertain" had music from Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald; and "Obtain" borrowed a few lines from The Crow).

Just a minor disclaimer, M-rated material ahead. Read at your own discretion.

Feedback: I love it. The more the merrier.

And now for the final installment of this story.

* * *

The suite balcony overlooked the construction of the hotel on the lake as she sat on the glazed terracotta floor. The lights left on from the skeletal structure remained despite its almost deserted state. Shirley could make out a few figures of the construction crew roaming around on several floors. In the distance, they looked like ants in their incessant wandering, never stopping, even as they wound down for the day.

Several stories below her, the spring dance endured without her as loud music continued to blare nonsensically. She guessed (correctly) in imagining Rivalz's awkward steps as he tried to lead Milly and how Nina tried to avoid direct eye contact with Suzaku.

Her ears were just acclimating to the silence when she heard the door sliding open behind her.

She didn't need to look back to know it was Lelouch, perfectly dressed in an impeccable suit.

She hugged her knees to her chest as he filled the space on the floor beside her. A mild wind blew past them in the persistent silence.

The sound of dark water lapping at the edges of an inflatable boat as it drifted away from a collapsing structure echoed in her memory.

Her chin rested on her arm.

A pensive glare kept vigil over the ongoing construction. It had taken eight months for the previous building to be completed, she had recently learned. Funny how something that took so much effort could be undone so quickly. Just a few flashes of light and the structure had come down with a crash, reminding her of a lightning strike.

In response, the glass of gin tonic at her side tipped around in a lazy circle.

His fingers caught her hand, tracing up her bare arm. When her eyes settled on him, he was up on his feet, taking her along. The almost empty glass lay forgotten on the floor. Even in the midst of contemplating the structure, he was not one for being ignored for too long as she already knew.

She swayed gently to the silent rhythm of the soft breeze as she stood between his arms.

"Nice dress," Lelouch offered mildly, though she understood what he meant. Her face warmed under his stare.

She pinched the lapel of his jacket, feeling the smooth material between her fingers.

"Nice suit," she countered and mentally calculated how long it would take her to get him out of it.

Her arms slid upward, winding around his shoulders. The familiar scent of fresh linen filled her lungs pleasantly as she held him close.

"Tighter," he murmured in her ear.

She conceded to his request, grip strengthening around him.

"Like this?" she asked shyly, suddenly unsure.

Had they been in full view of their classmates, they would've done an awful job of disguising it, no matter how convincing Lelouch tended to be when arguing. She really didn't care as long as he didn't and pulled herself towards him so that she balanced on tiptoe. She wasn't oblivious to the way her breasts pressed against his chest.

No bra. He remembered, obviously.

"Yeah, like that."

It seemed surreal to her that he'd taken an entire airport hostage to ensure a private conversation with her. And that they'd slept side by side in her bed was a thought she had never bothered to entertain. She hadn't been able to shake the image of him sitting on the edge of her bed ever since.

If ever another boy came into her life, she would surely find it impossible for him to eclipse Lelouch. He'd ruined her completely and probably wasn't aware of it.

They hadn't progressed much further, aside from the one time he'd unexpectedly kissed her in the library. She wasn't exactly sure what provoked him when she sat across the table from him and asked him about graphing an equation. She'd complained about the day's lesson having a convoluted explanation that irked her. It was only when she'd looked up that she noted the hungry look in his eye. The sound of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood was the only warning she received before he leaned over the tabletop to press his mouth against hers.

Far from complaining, she did think they'd been lucky not have been caught as a rather large crowd of underclassmen made their way in to find material for their research projects a few scant minutes later.

Except for that minor outburst, they had avoided each other in public for the most part.

Well, except for the few times he had surreptitiously dragged her into lone classrooms and they'd emerged with swollen lips and rumpled clothes.

However complicated the relationship between them and the blurred lines of a friendship they kept up as a facade, she only knew she wanted him. It was more than a little odd, to say the least. And yet, she had a hard time imaging life without him, despite his previous efforts.

She stood on tiptoes, breathing him in. His lips found the edge of her jaw, below her ear.

"I love you," he confessed.

One hand rested on the nape of her neck as the other slid along the bare portion of her back. She felt herself melt at the contact and held on tighter.

"Kiss me," she heard him say, his voice reaching her so clearly she had trouble hearing the not so distant clang of metal sheets hitting in the quiet night.

She did so without hesitation. For mostly ignoring romantic entanglements, he was quite adept at making her insides liquefy with simple words and silent gestures. The irony was not lost on her. But then, charm poured out of him effortlessly.

"Quid pro quo," she managed to breathe out when they broke apart. He licked her lower lip.

He made it further difficult to concentrate as he kissed her neck, replying with a curt hum instead. Shirley exhaled shakily, which he rather enjoyed as she held him tightly.

"I love you," he repeated in a soft sigh against her skin.

She tried to still the tremble in her body, but he felt it anyway as his grip held her closer. She found his mouth easily, clutching at him to keep her unsteady knees from knocking her to the floor.

"Sleep with me," she whispered.

She chose to ignore how he'd gone still beside her and instead kissed his face. Her hands slid down to the collar of his shirt before bringing him down to her.

There was something potentially dangerous in what she wanted as they stayed together. As much as he was attracted to her, he didn't want to risk involving her more than she already had been.

He couldn't resist her for long, giving into her insistent soft lips.

Amid the sounds of heavy power tools being moved, she pulled away from him slowly. The crackling sound of a worker welding steel beams together produced enough light to brighten up the darkness.

The green of her eyes startled him momentarily when she stepped aside and the remaining sparks illuminated her face. She responded with a short tug on his tie to keep him moving after her as they made their way inside.

She left him leaning against the wall as she took a moment to slide the curtains shut. Her silhouette in the dim room incited his imagination, suddenly remembering that he'd let her choose how much she wanted to be involved with him.

When she turned back to him, he appeared too composed for her not to be tempted to mess up his perfectly tailored clothes or that soft hair or even provoke a few bruises on him. Still, she noted the restless gaze he fixed on her, uncertain and with something else she couldn't quite identify that made her so very hungry and curious.

The softened light of the lamp illuminated the room enough for her to seek out his lips again. Her fingers undid the satiny material of the black tie that slipped off so easily from his neck.

"Shirley?" he called out softly as she undid the top buttons of his shirt.

"Mm," she replied, kissing his throat.

"Are you sure?" he tried.

She tugged at his shirt, roughly pulling it out from his pants. Her hands made it under the cotton material, arms circling his waist as she pushed him against the wall. The press of her hips against his earned her a low groan.

The handsome frown on his face incited her further, suddenly dying to do such more to him.

"Aren't you?" she retorted mildly before finishing the line of buttons on white cotton.

He kissed her harder than before as he grasped a handful of soft hair and pulled her closer, barely tasting the remains of her drink on sweet lips. That and the warmth of smooth skin beckoning to him filled the top spots of his preoccupations.

One hand slid under the thin straps along her back as the other rested on the nape of her neck. The ties that kept her top tightened loosened after some light tugging.

Her hands flattened against the wall on either side of his head, attempting to maintain balance. Graceful fingers trailed without interruption from the nape of her neck down to her lower back for several long minutes. A shiver slid down her spine.

She felt his inquisitive stare through closed eyes as her neck arched backwards.

Through the cotton shirt, her fingers dug into his shoulders as he kissed the bare arm that wrapped around him.

"I love you," he whispered as he started forward.

She had trouble letting him go, preferring to drown in taste of his lips than breathe.

His shirt was pulled apart at the seams and fell noiselessly somewhere along the short path to the bed. The belt came undone before she fell back on neatly folded sheets. One leg hooked over his hip, hiking up the hem of her dress in the process.

Roaming hands felt smooth skin, warm breath and soft curves.

He shifted over her, pushing both of her wrists into the mattress above her head.

Her head rolled back on her shoulders as he neared her, lips tracing her neck with slow, infuriating kisses.

Despite the gentle feel of lips lowering between her breasts, she couldn't help but gaze out of the window. Through the sheer material of the curtains, the lights from the hotel in construction lit up the night.

She was in a different time, recalling the debut days of Zero meddling in state affairs.

"I don't know why, but I thought of you then," she commented suddenly.

She deliberately omitted the part where she was held at gunpoint along with her friends although the flashback of the incident lingered on. It was easily in the top three worst experiences of her life although the fear of that moment was gone. His line of sight followed hers, staring off into the distance. He'd inadvertently rescued her without realizing it until now.

He was something else entirely, infecting her with concern and affection where hatred and revenge should have inhabited her feelings.

He nuzzled her shoulder, planting soft kisses along the way to her jaw line.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Lelouch murmured, his tongue tracing the line of her throat.

Somehow, it didn't seem like enough. A complicated mixture of desire and frustration overtook her, making her fingers twitch.

She looked up at him, gaze suddenly sharp as her attention was torn between his eyes and mouth. Something uncomfortably hot racing in her veins urged her forward. She slid one wrist out of his hold and wound an arm around his neck, bringing his mouth down to hers.

She burned with an intensity that alarmed her. The mild fever coursing through her made her wonder if it was at all possible for love to make anyone ill. It was a strange evil, she surmised.

Before getting too deep into those thoughts, his hand had slipped into the flimsy top of that dress. A gasp filled the short space between them before they met in another urgent kiss.

"Since when?" Shirley managed, somewhat more sober as she considered him.

"A while," was the vague response against her mouth.

Hand still inside her top, he pinched her—a cheap shot at distraction. Groaning, she bit him.

He was more surprised when her hand slid to the hem of his pants, thumb sliding under the crisp material as she yanked at him.

"I need a better answer," she said against his throat, her hand lightly covering his mouth.

He sucked on her fingertips and bit down on her knuckles as she kissed sensitive skin. He generated more warmth than usual, bordering on unhealthy. She liked it.

"Lulu," she said breathlessly as he hovered over her.

From the angle she was positioned, he got an eyeful of cleavage as her dress had begun to slide off her shoulder amid their movements. He took in the sight as she'd expected. In his lack of proper concentration, she bumped her hips against his. His fingers dug into her hip, almost painfully.

When his other hand closed around the falling strap on her shoulder, she noted the intense stare before being overcome with a rough and slow slide of lips. He didn't let her come up for air for a long moment, not that she missed the oxygen.

"The first time you kissed me," Lelouch whispered without letting her go.

She didn't fail to notice that he was flushed, eyes glinting darkly.

Had it not been for the loud vibrating noise of his phone ringing in his pocket, she would've had him.

He pulled back from her reluctantly at the third ring, hands sliding over her legs to get untangled. Her head sank heavily into the pillow.

_No._

"What's going on?" he answered as his voice suddenly went cold. Getting into business mode came very easily to him, she noticed.

Still sitting on the bed, his tightly fisted hand rested on the edge of the mattress.

"There haven't been any updates," he said, dryly.

She sat up slowly.

"It seems like someone isn't upholding a part of the deal," he chastised.

Her ear pressed between his shoulder blades to let her savor the soothing rumble of his voice. She nuzzled his smooth skin and planted long, random kisses until she reached the back of his neck.

"The intelligence reports regarding the matter are still pending," he continued, his tone bordering on sarcasm.

Her arms slid forward to embrace him. She pressed herself against him as her lips continued a slow trail along the side of his neck and licked his jaw.

When her hand landed on his enduring fist, she felt his fingers close over hers for a moment. She was expecting a kiss when he turned toward her.

Instead, his thumb traced her mouth before she gently bit him.

"Right…" he trailed off as he studied her for a long moment, eyes scanning her face.

He was on his feet before she knew it and watched as he impassively paced back and forth in a straight line. His abrupt departure left her suddenly cold and so very agitated.

"The point is organization," he went on, slightly shaken, although none of it appeared in his voice.

She sat on her legs, unable to take her eyes off him.

"Keeping a competent task force is the most important thing," he stressed, running an impatient hand through his hair.

Slowly, she raised herself to a kneeling position, keeping balance on the soft cushion of the mattress. Hell flaring in her eyes, she beckoned to him with a single look.

"Seeing as strategies and contingencies are planned based on gathered intelligence, it's important the sources we cultivate are trustworthy," he added, giving her a side glance. "Otherwise, it's all for nothing."

His footsteps halted immediately when he noticed that pesky strap slide off her shoulder once and for all. He'd been wrong about how this relationship would turn out—short-lived and doomed from the start. It was so much worse than he could have ever imagined. The image of her on the bed burned itself into his memory, leaving him wondering if she realized how she was absolutely killing him.

He swallowed hard.

Being noble was more difficult than he could've imagined, especially with the way she was tempting him and killing any attempt at maintaining distance.

"Uh huh," he replied to the noise on the phone.

She took advantage of his attention to lower the other strap down her shoulder. When it came down, his mind was made up to terminate the conversation that had taken up far too much of his time.

"Yeah," he responded automatically.

He was going to hell.

"Affirmative," he mentioned before hanging up. "I'll get back to you about that."

He reached her in a few steps, carelessly depositing the pesky phone on the nightstand before making her back up a few spaces on the mattress to make room for him. She would smiled at her triumph had he not been kissing her so insistently that he left her breathless.

Hands roamed over her, memorizing the generous curves of her body as he held her impossibly closer.

She drew in a shaky breath, feeling dizzy as he stripped her out of the remaining dress that hung onto her hips.

She was on her back as she felt him push the scrap of dress down her legs and let it drop noiselessly on the floor.

He moved over her, hands not stopping as he kissed soft skin. Underneath him, she writhed with his movements, drawing in sharp breaths every so often as her mind forgot to process anything coherent, except to _feelseehearbreathetaste _him.

Him kissing her.

Touching her.

Desiring her.

Driving her insane.

He heard her hiss with the occasional gentle graze of teeth over her skin. She pulled on his hair in sheer restlessness.

In the midst of his caresses, both rough and gentle, she felt him suddenly stop when her leg shifted inside his thigh. Intrigued, she opened her eyes and repeated the motion. She felt the sharp inhale he took at the movement.

"I've tried to forget you," she blurted out in one breath.

He cradled her chin against his palm, a feral glare searching her. For the long moment he didn't break eye contact with her, he seemed lost and desperate, so unlike the image of the nonchalant classmate he dutifully portrayed.

It was quite a sight to behold.

He crushed her mouth with a breathless kiss that left him dizzy and unable to think.

It distracted her from realizing that his hands reached her hips to slide off black lace panties. Her skin burned under the pressure of his palm, fingertips drawing her.

"He's nothing like me, huh?" she heard him ask directly in her ear, almost mockingly. "Is that what you want?"

The forgettable boy she'd once met on a faraway continent didn't register clearly in her memory as Lelouch dipped long, elegant fingers into her. She was slick to the touch, silky as he permeated her depth. In response, she bit down on his shoulder.

"Lulu," she whispered thickly and licked the edge of his jaw.

She grasped his wrist tightly as he heard his softly spoken name echoing in his ear before she found his mouth and kissed him senselessly. Her fingers dug into his skin, soft moans deafening

him to everything else.

"Do you want him instead?" he went on, tone fierce.

She hadn't expected this reaction, the sudden jealousy that had risen in him.

She shivered against his skin when his hand gripped the back of her knee and pushed it into the sheets. The hand wrapped around his wrist slowly slid up his arm to dig impatiently into his shoulder.

Before she had a chance to answer, he kissed her again, just as angrily.

Flashes of them in her bed and between the sheets filtered through his memory. The gentle proclamation she'd made to him. There'd been no way she'd said those words to him. Instead, the fatigue had made him imagine she'd said such a thing or else she'd just been teasing him.

Something in the deeper part of his conscience called out, reminding him that he didn't deserve her. Still, the possessive portion of him was drawn out, seeking to imbed himself in her completely and to never let her forget it. And despite everything, from the mental diatribes and debates he'd wrestled in regards to her, it was Shirley that permanently occupied some portion of his thoughts.

"I want you," she muttered darkly, almost threateningly. "No one else."

His blood flowed in a rage as he felt her move helplessly beneath him. Something about seeing him affect her in such a way left him unsteady as he found himself more and more addicted to making her react again and again to him and only him.

"I don't," she paused to breathe. "—know how to—ahh—"

Another tremor shook her uncontrollably.

"How to want anyone else," she finished as he kissed her throat.

One long leg brushed against his side before stopping at her side. She leaned up on one elbow, pressing them both closer together, enough for him feel her pounding heart against his chest. He felt himself grow lightheaded within her confining embrace.

"I want you," she mumbled fervently as she clung to him, fistfuls of his hair in her hands. "I want to hurt you."

The comment barely fazed him as he stared into her darkened eyes before leaning in to kiss her. Knowing she meant her words, he found her pent up aggression oddly irresistible. Still, it did nothing to calm him and only incited his anger further.

"Lulu," she repeated when they broke apart.

She was on the brink, scraping her nails against his skin and burying her face in his neck as she shook underneath him. Her nails lightly scratched him in a concentrated effort to not injure him as her hands moved over his chest.

His hands wandered over her soft skin as he studied her, completely enticing him to do more damage and letting her tear him down as she wished.

"What are you doing to me?" he asked against her collar as he tasted her sweat.

Her head hit the pillow as she breathed heavily and tried to compose herself somewhat. He didn't stop staring.

When she was slightly steadier, she kissed him again, more gentle than before.

"I've always wanted you," she murmured. "Only you."

It echoed in his ear.

Her touch led her to his waist, where she undid his pants and helped him push down the remaining fabric. He surrendered control as she maneuvered on top of him in the process, unable to stop his hands from wandering over exposed skin, memorizing all of her.

"I love you," he said breathlessly.

Her hair fell over them like a curtain as she settled against him. Again, soft curves pressed into his skin, making him oblivious to everything else.

His hands threaded into her hair as he brought her down to taste her on his tongue.

"Say you love me," he demanded, although she noted how he lacked the authoritative tone she'd heard him use on subordinates.

Not quite a question, this was more like him pleading with her.

She sucked his lower lip into her mouth before pushing him down against the mattress.

She was the first to break away from him, flushed and panting. Her hands rested beside his ribs as she pressed their hips together. He moaned, moving against her.

Her fingers combed through his hair as she stared into his eyes for a long moment in which neither one looked away.

"I want to feel," she spoke in his ear as her hand slid over his stomach and between his legs. "Just you."

He breathed in deeply, inhaling the faint scent of her smoky perfume and fresh sweat before bringing her down for a kiss. He was smooth under her hand and warm like the rest of him.

"Only you," she reassured him.

Her legs slid on either side of him as she raised herself up slowly.

_Say it._

"Don't hold back," she breathed.

She guided his hands to her breasts. His fingers closed over her, feeling her heart pounding.

"I feel like I'm going to lose control," she mused aloud.

Her head turned upward to stare at the blank ceiling momentarily. Part of him ached to taste her throat as he watched her tangle one hand in her own hair. She slowly slid down.

_Say it._

"Just go crazy, OK?" she said softly, sinking into him.

He nodded once.

The soft cry reached his ears when his hips arched upward to meet hers.

"Yeah," he mumbled, eyes sliding shut as he made sure she felt him with the same aching need. "Anything you want."

He drowned in the satin feeling of skin and warmth invading his surroundings. She found herself unable to release him, groaning as she felt him react.

"Say it," he repeated, more desperate this time as he raised himself up on his elbows. "Stop teasing."

Their chests touched, each one feeling raised pulses. She pushed herself against him recklessly, badly wanting all of him everywhere.

She bit down on his lip before kissing him with a need she'd never felt before. He responded in kind, almost as violently as she devoured him.

"I love you," she said in between the hot slide of lips and tongues.

The warm press of skin distracted them both as they fell into each other, desperately trying to make sense of one another.

He had trouble making sense of anything that was not her. She wasn't very loud, but overwhelmed him with sheer intensity that when the phone rang several more times in the middle of the night, he didn't answer it for not being able to hear or sense its presence.

-

Dawn found Lelouch exhausted when he rolled onto his side.

Shirley felt the mattress shift beneath her as he slid off to collect his clothes. She watched his familiar figure as he found his pants and stepped into them.

"Lulu?" she inquired gently.

He turned to her as she sat up slowly, the covers bunching at her waist when she moved. He stood stock still while taking in the sight.

She reached for his arm, effortlessly bringing him down to an empty spot beside her. His mouth was on hers automatically as she embraced him.

Before long, he had pinned her shoulders down to the bed.

"Shirley," he said breathlessly.

"Fine, you can be on top this time," she teased, smiling at him.

She kissed him hungry as her arms drew around him, wanting him everywhere again. She got as far as sliding her hand down his stomach before he clamped down her wrist to stop her.

He shook his head.

"I'd love to," he replied, eyes roaming over her momentarily. "But I can't."

Her palm rested on his cheek as she watched his eyes close when he leaned into the warmth that seeped into him from her touch.

His stealthy exit interrupted, he was finding it difficult to leave.

She drew up into a sitting a position again and slid her arms around him. He was hers in some ways as she felt him react to her.

"Go," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair.

He stood up slowly and gathered the remains of his clothes as she mentally replayed how she'd gotten him out of that expensive suit. She watched curiously when he paused after sliding his jacket back on. Reaching into the lined blazer, she gazed on as he produced a thin box.

"I meant to give this to you," he explained as he handed it to her. "But you sort of distracted me," he finished with a short cough as he gazed away.

"Want me to distract you again?" she asked, holding on his wrist instead.

She grabbed the loose ends of his tie to drag him downward for a brief kiss. He responded in kind, between damp breaths and a need for more contact. Even when he managed to pull back from her a bit, she held on, trailing her lips along his neck.

"Thanks," she smiled to conceal her disappointment at his imminent departure.

If he picked up on her mood, he said nothing but kissed her in reply.

"Come back to me," she instructed him.

Her arms slid under his loose shirt, pulling him tighter against her. He stayed still for a long moment, feeling the pounding of her heart through the thin material against his chest. He didn't seem to mind how her arms didn't immediately comply when she was supposed to let go.

"Promise?" she pressed closer.

"Anything you want."

The kiss he placed on her lips lingered long after he left.

-

It had been five hours since his departure.

The sounds of power tools from the nearby construction site made quite a bit of noise through the open window. Unable to sleep soundly for too long, she found herself wide awake enough to watch the sunrise lighten the shadows in her lonely suite.

Her fingers touched her lips, recalling the feel of him.

A flurry of images scanned through her closed eyelids, all of him. Lelouch under her, on top, unable to stop wandering hands, his breath on her skin as he said he loved her…

Some part of her still found it too fantastic that she'd deconstructed him so and that he'd allowed her to be so intimately involved.

She turned onto one side to feel the rising sun on her face along with a healthy blush when her hand slid under the pillow. The slim rectangular box lay inert in her hand as she traced its edges and the sharp angles of its corners.

Breathing in, she removed the top portion carefully to see a wristwatch lying atop a spongy cotton pad. What took her attention was not the subtle design on the face of the watch or the brilliance of its metallic glimmer but the two ticking hands moving simultaneously, side by side.

Snippets of a past conversation floated in her ears.

"_Where did you go?"_

"_University tours."_

"_So far away?"_

"_Yeah."_

She breathed out a sigh, knowing it was just like him to be practical. The considerate gesture made her heart swell painfully. A small folded piece of paper under the rim of the watch slid between her fingers as she opened it. Three words in neatly written print stared back at her.

Crushed and delighted at once, Shirley read and reread the tiny thing, deciding to do as he said, no matter what. Fingertips ghosted over her lips, a reminder of his promise to her.

_Wait for me._

The finely made watch turned over between her fingers as she inspected the familiar looking outline imbedded on the metal. From her previous research into the subject, she immediately recognized the intricate design as a noble crest reserved for Britannian royalty.

Despite herself, she smiled in the gradual sunlight that warmed her.


End file.
